I am not taken in by
your word-twisting. You belong to Hermione and her dead show. Well, if
you do, you do. I don't blame you. But then you've nothing to do with
me.
In his inflamed, overwrought exasperation, he stopped the car, and they
sat there, in the middle of the country lane, to have it out. It was a
crisis of war between them, so they did not see the ridiculousness of
their situation.
'If you weren't a fool, if only you weren't a fool,' he cried in bitter
despair, 'you'd see that one could be decent, even when one has been
wrong. I WAS wrong to go on all those years with Hermione--it was a
deathly process. But after all, one can have a little human decency.
But no, you would tear my soul out with your jealousy at the very
mention of Hermione's name.'
'I jealous! I--jealous! You ARE mistaken if you think that. I'm not
jealous in the least of Hermione, she is nothing to me, not THAT!' And
Ursula snapped her fingers. 'No, it's you who are a liar. It's you who
must return, like a dog to his vomit.
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