'That's more than I can say of _you_,' she said. 'I've heard more harm
than good about _you_.'
'Ay, I dessay,' he said, looking in the fire. It was a long time since he
had seen the furze burning, he said to himself. There was a silence,
during which she watched his face.
'Do you call yourself a _man_?' she said, more in contemptuous reproach
than in anger. 'Leave a woman as you've left me, you don't care to
what!--and then to turn up in _this_ fashion, without a word to say for
yourself.'
He stirred in his chair, planted his feet apart, and resting his arms on
his knees, looked steadily into the fire, without answering. So near to
her was his head, and the close black hair, she could scarcely refrain
from starting away, as if it would bite her.
'Do you call that the action of a _man_?' she repeated.
'No,' he said, reaching and poking the bits of wood into the fire with
his fingers. 'I didn't call it anything, as I know of. It's no good
calling things by any names whatsoever, as I know of.'
She watched him in his actions. There was a longer and longer pause
between each speech, though neither knew it.
'I _wonder_ what you think of yourself!' she exclaimed, with vexed
emphasis. 'I _wonder_ what sort of a fellow you take yourself to be!' She
was really perplexed as well as angry.
'Well,' he said, lifting his head to look at her, 'I guess I'll answer
for my own faults, if everybody else'll answer for theirs.
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