“She’s gone,” said Richmond, in a dazed way.
“And I doubt if she’ll come back,” said his wife.
“You must bring her back.”
Mrs. Richmond was searching in the drawer for some toilet article. “I can do nothing with her,” said she absently. “You know that. Where has Marthe put——”
“You act as if you did not care,” snarled he.
“And I don’t,” replied the wife indifferently. “She’s better off. I hope she’ll marry Wade.”
“Marry?” sneered Richmond. “Do you suppose he’d marry her when he finds out that she has cut herself off?”
“Maybe so,” replied Mrs. Richmond, with intent to infuriate.
Richmond, with the wounds to his vanity inflicted by Roger open again and burning and bleeding, gave a kind of howl of rage. “Don’t be a fool!” he shouted. “I say he will not marry her!”
“Then you ought to be satisfied,” said his wife pleasantly.