"Why, indeed!" says he, stung by her scorn. "You have your own to think of!"
And now a terrible thing happens—swift as lightning she lifts her hand, and gives him a little stinging blow across his face.
A second afterwards she has her hands upon her breast, and is crying affrightedly.
"I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I'm sorry!"
Yet through all the fright he can hear there is not an atom of real sorrow in her voice.
"Let that alone," says he, smiling grimly. "I dare say I deserved it. I take it meekly, as you see. But now—how is it to be between us?"
"You know. You ought to know. We agreed before our marriage that you were to go your way, and I—mine!"
"Very well," says Rylton slowly. "Let it be so. Remember always, however," looking fixedly at her, "that it was you who insisted on it."
"I shall remember," says Tita.
She turns and walks quickly on the path that leads to the house. Rylton turns to accompany her. But she, stopping short, looks up at him with a frowning brow.