Before he could prevent it, she had torn the telegram in half and run to the window. Before she could throw the pieces out, he had caught her by the arm. Livid with rage, he almost shouted:
"Are you going to make me take it away from you? I've never laid my hands on you yet."
"It's my business!" she cried in desperation.
"Yes, and it's mine!" he retorted, trying to seize the fragments.
Her face flushed from the struggle, now furiously angry, she fought him with all her strength. They battled all over the room. Finally he backed her against the dresser, and she was powerless to resist further. He put out his hand to seize the torn pieces of the telegram, which she had stuffed inside her waist.
"That telegram's from Madison," he cried hotly. "Give it here!"
"No!" she exclaimed, white as death, and still defiant.
"I'm going to find out where I stand," he cried. "Give me that telegram, or I'll take it away from you."
"No!"
"Come on!" he said savagely, his teeth clenched, his face white from furious jealousy.