"You are angry, and you do not know what you are saying," she said. "It is true that you forbade me to go to-night—but you forbid everything. I cannot live your life. It is too dull, too triste. It is cruel of you to expect it. Let me go in now. If you want to scold, you can do so to-morrow."
She stepped forward, but he laid his hands upon her dainty shoulders and pushed her roughly back.
"Never!" he cried savagely. "Go and live what life you choose. This is no home for you. Go, I say!"
She looked at him, her lovely eyes turned pleadingly upwards, and her lips trembling.
"You are mad!" she said. "Am I not your wife? You have no right to keep me here. And my boy, too. Let me pass."
He did not move, nor did he show any sign of yielding. He stood there with his hand stretched out in a threatening gesture toward her, his face pale and mute as marble, but with the blind rage still burning in his dark eyes.
"What is the boy, or what am I to you?" he cried hoarsely. "Begone, woman!"
Still she did not seem to understand.
"Where would you have me go?" she asked. "Is not this my home? What have I——"
"Go to your lover!" he interrupted fiercely. "Tell him that your husband is no longer your tool. He will take you in."