The vicar guessed her meaning, and violently threw off the weakness with which her story had infected his manhood. "I forbid you to heap crime upon crime," said he, firmly and insistently.
"I shall do what I like. Do not dictate to me, if you please."
"But God----"
"I don't believe in God."
"You do; you must. Does not this shameful punishment which has overtaken you in the hour of triumph declare the anger of a great and terrible God."
"No!" Her expression was mulish.
"Woman! woman! Kneel and ask for mercy."
"I won't ask for mercy when I'm being treated so badly. Never! never! Just when things were going so smoothly, too; the money coming in by the bushel, and Demetrius out of the way. I call it a shame; it's mean, spiteful, cruel. I intended to have such a jolly time, and now--now----" Her voice faltered and broke.
She swung with a groan to one side of the chair, hiding her face and breathing heavily. That deadly fear of the inevitable would grip her, do what she would.
"Leah"--Kaimes' voice shook a trifle--"God is very good to you."