His face is as white as death now, but she silences him. She lifts her small, cold hand from his breast, and lays it on his lips that are nearly as cold.
"You proposed to her four times! All your love was hers! And it was only when hope was dead—when life seemed worthless—that you—married me."
"She told you that—all that?" asks Rylton; he has caught her hand.
"All that—and more." Tita is smiling now, but very pitifully. "But that was enough. Why take it to heart? It is nothing, really. It does not concern us. Of course, I always knew. You told me—that you did not love me."
"I shall not forgive her," says Rylton fiercely.
There is anguish as well as rage in his tone. He is holding her hand tightly clenched between both his own.
"I don't care whether you do or not," says Tita suddenly, almost violently. "You can forgive her or not, as you choose. The whole thing," dragging her hand forcibly from his, "is a matter of no consequence whatever to me!"
"You mean that you don't care?" says Rylton, in a suffocating voice.
"Care!" contemptuously. "No! Why should I care, or wonder, or waste one thought upon your love affairs?"
This insolent answer rouses Rylton from his remorse.