He was laboring under excitement. She could see the smoldering fire in his black eyes; it was plain that he was worn, tired, a man fighting in the last ditch. His hold upon himself was not secure, but she could not be sorry for him now. The possibilities his presence suggested terrified her and excluded all other thoughts.
He stood with his burning eyes upon her face, not speaking; staring.
"Go away," she begged, but he shook his head.
"You've been cheated," he said, hoarsely. "It doesn't matter if you gave yourself to HIM for the reason you said you did—or for his money. You're cheated…. His kind always cheats. You're getting NOTHING…. Are you going to stand it? That's what I came to find out…. Are you going to stand it?"
She could make no reply.
"What are you going to do about it?" he demanded.
"What can I do?… It's too late."
"Look here, you married him to get something—to be able to do something…. You didn't have any other reason. You didn't love him. … You loved ME. He's been kicked out by his family. He doesn't own anything. He's out for good, and you can't get anything or do anything. I want to know what you're going to do about it."
"Nothing."
"Nothing?… You're not going to stick to him. You don't love him—probably you hate him by this time…. You couldn't help it."
"I married him," she said. "It isn't his fault if his family put him out…. It was MY fault. They did it because he married me…. It was I who cheated HIM—and you can see—what it's—cost him…. I've got to make it up to him—someway. I—I don't hate him…. He's been good…. Oh, he's been wonderfully good."