"My dear Theresa, as I told you before, I don't know. I really haven't thought about it."
"Oh! You drive me mad!" She sprang to her feet, wringing her hands in impotent wrath. "You never used to be this way."
"I used to be all softness and gentleness," he nodded concurrence. "Was that why you left me?"
"You are so different, so dreadfully calm. You frighten me. I feel you have something terrible planned all the while. But whatever you do, don't do anything rash. Don't get excited - "
"I don't get excited any more," he interrupted. "Not since you went away."
"You have improved - remarkably," she retorted.
He smiled acknowledgment. "While I am thinking about what I shall do, I'll tell you what you will have to do - tell Mr. - er - Haythorne who I am. It may make our stay in this cabin more - may I say, sociable?"
"Why have you followed me into this frightful country?" she asked irrelevantly.