"Ay ... look at me as if I were a toad ... a horned toad." He grinned convulsively. "You've made me one ... you with your dirty little lover!"
Sophy got her breath. She was beside herself. She tore from his grasp, leaving some of the light trimming of her blouse in his clenched hand.
"I wish he were my lover!" she panted. "I wish any one were my lover. Oh, if I could only tell you that I had a lover! If I only could! Brute!... Coward!..."
She faced him quivering with detestation.
The dementia of hatred in her wild eyes sobered Chesney for an instant.
"Cut that!" he said sullenly. "What you've got to do is to swear to me, by all you hold sacred, that you'll never see that little skunk again. Come—out with it!"
She laughed.
"Swear!" he cried furiously, "or I'll ... I'll...." He half-lifted his balled fist.
She went on laughing.
"Oh, you brute...." she whispered between the spasms of laughter. "You great, helpless brute!..."