She looked at him; and he went back to the window.
“My husband’s suit cannot be defended,” she said. “Doubtless you will act according to the dictates of the London clubs.”
“I do not say so,” he said, turning angrily. “I shall act according to the dictates of my own common sense. And do not be too sure that the petition will be unopposed. The law recognizes the plea of connivance.”
“But it would be a false plea,” said Marian, raising her voice.
“I shall not discuss that with you. Whether your husband was blind, or merely kept his eyes shut will not be decided by us. You have been warned. We will drop the subject now, if you please.”
“Do you suppose,” said Marian, with a bright color in her cheeks, “that after what you have said, anything could induce me to marry you?”
He was startled, and remained for a moment motionless. Then he said, in his usual cold tone, “As you please. You may think better of it. I will leave you for the present. When we meet again, you will be calmer.”
“Yes,” she said. “Good-bye.”
Without answering, he changed his coat for a silk jacket, transferred his cigar-case to a pocket in it, and went out. When he had passed the threshold, he hesitated, and returned.
“Why do you say good-bye?” he said, after clearing his throat uneasily.