"I think you do as far as you are able; but, Laura, I guess you don't know what a decent sentiment is. You're not immoral, you're just unmoral, kind o' all out of shape, and I'm afraid there isn't a particle of hope for you. When we met neither of us had any reason to be proud, but I believed that you would see in this the chance of salvation which sometimes comes to a man and a woman fixed as we were then. What had been had been. It was all in the great to-be for us, and now, how you've kept your word! What little that promise meant, when I thought you handed me a new lease of life!"
She cowered before him, unable to say a word in her own defense, almost wishing he would beat her.
"You're killing me—killing me!" she cried in anguish.
He shrugged his shoulders skeptically.
"Don't make such a mistake," he replied ironically. "In a month you'll recover. There will be days when you will think of me, just for a moment, and then it will be all over. With you it is the easiest way, and it always will be. You'll go on and on until you're finally left a wreck, just the type of the common woman. And you'll sink until you're down to the very bed-rock of depravity. I pity you."
Laura quickly raised her head and looked at him. Her eyes were swollen, her face haggard and drawn. Madison found himself wondering how he could ever have thought her even good looking. Her voice was metallic and hard.
"You'll never leave me to do that. I'll kill myself!" she cried hoarsely.
"Perhaps that's the only thing left for you to do," he replied cynically; "but you'll not do it. It's easier to live."
He went to get his hat and coat. Then he turned and looked at her. Laura rose at the same time. There was an unnatural glitter in her eyes. She breathed hard. Her bosom rose and fell spasmodically.
"John," she cried exaltedly, "I said I'd kill myself, and I mean every word of it. If it's the only thing to do, I'll do it, and I'll do it before your very eyes!"