"The law! The law!" she echoed disdainfully. "Always remember this—the minute a husband even mentions his legal rights it shows that he has lost his moral rights and the moral rights are the ones that count." Changing her tone to one of pleading, she went on: "Let me go, dear! Please let me go!"
He smiled significantly at her.
"You just be a nice, good little wife, and in the morning you can go down to Tiffany's and buy anything you like, anything—"
"Ha! ha!" she cried desperately, hopelessly, "no wonder you talk of buying me! If I did that where would I be any better than a woman of the streets?"
Without stopping to hear his answer she turned quickly and again made an effort to reach her room.
"Good night!" she cried.
But once more he intercepted her.
"You're not going to leave me," he said warningly.
"I am, I tell you! I am!" she cried defiantly.
"Oh, no, you're not," he said determinedly, and approaching as if about to lay hands on her.