He advanced threateningly.
"Then if you won't, I'll—"
He stopped abruptly and his manner changed. Shrugging his shoulders, he exclaimed:
"Oh, what's the use of quarreling? I don't want to be mean to you. I want to be nice to you."
Tears were in her eyes, her lips were trembling. Pathetically she asked:
"Then why do you insult me? Why do you wish to degrade me?"
"Degrade you?" he echoed, as if surprised. "Why—you're my wife—"
"Does that make the degradation any the less?" she demanded. "When I married you did I become your property? Do you own me? Have I surrendered all rights in myself? When you placed a wedding ring on my finger did it mean that I forfeited my free will? If so—then marriage is horrible."
He shrugged his shoulders. Carelessly he said:
"The law says that a husband—"