The insolence of her manner was such as no man could bear. Rangely crimsoned to the temples. He paced across the room, while she coolly seated herself in a great Venetian chair, and began to play with a little jade image. He came back to her, and stood a moment as if he could not find words.
"Why don't you go?" she asked, looking up at him as if he were a servant sent upon an errand.
"Because," he broke out angrily, "when I go I shall not come back; and
I should like to understand this thing."
She shrugged her shoulders, and leaned back in her chair, looking him over from head to foot.
"Why you quarrel with me is more than I know," he went on. "You've got tired of me, I suppose, and want to amuse yourself with another man."
The red flushed in her cheek.
"If my husband, who you say is nothing to us, were here," she said, "he would horsewhip you."
The other laughed savagely.
"He is not here, however, so you may digest my remark at your leisure."
Mrs. Wilson rose from her seat with an air of dignity which was really imposing.