John was moved beyond self-control. He caught her by the wrist. She rose and stood facing him, her breath coming quick. She was in a fury that robbed her of all judgment and all mercy; but she had no fear of him.
"You shall withdraw those words or explain them!"
"Ask Christine to explain them!" she sneered. "What a fool you are! Here's a man to give lectures on the management of wives, when his own wife——" She broke off, laughing again.
"You shall tell me what you mean!"
"Dear me, you can't guess? You've turned very dull, John. Never mind! Don't make too much of it! Perhaps you were quick-tempered? Perhaps you didn't make her home pleasant? And if a woman's home isn't pleasant—well, you know what's likely to happen, don't you?"
Perspiration was on John Fanshaw's brow. He pressed her wrist hard.
"You she-devil!" he said. "Tell me what you mean, I say!"
"Oh, ask Christine! And if she won't tell you, I advise you to apply to Frank Caylesham, John."
"Is that true?"
"Yes, it is. Don't break my wrist."