"She has made you hate me—for one thing," Gloria answered.
"That is not true!" Reanda could hardly breathe, and he felt his voice growing thick.
"Not true! Then, if not she, who else? You are with her there all day—she talks about me, she finds fault with me, and you come home and see the faults she finds for you—"
"There is not a word of truth in what you say—"
"Do not be so angry, then! If it were not true, why should you care? I have said it, and I will say it. She has robbed me of you. Oh, I will never forgive her! Never fear! One does not forget such things! She has got you, and she will keep you, I suppose. But you shall regret it! She shall pay me for it!"
Her voice shook, for her jealousy was real, as was all her emotion while it lasted.
"You shall not speak of her in that way," said Reanda, fiercely. "I owe her and her family all that I am, all that I have in the world—"
"Including me!" interrupted Gloria. "Pay her then—pay her with your love and yourself. You can satisfy your conscience in that way, and you can break my heart."
"There is not the slightest fear of that," answered Reanda, cruelly.
She rose suddenly to her feet and stood before him, blazing with anger.