“'I'm going to get out,' said Frederic, his voice rising. 'You've treated me like a dog all of my life, and I'm through. I shan't even say good-bye to you. You don't deserve any more consideration from me than I've received from you. I hope I'll never see you again. If I ever have a son I'll not treat him as you've treated your son. You don't deserve the honour of being called father; you don't deserve to have a son. I wish to God I had never been obliged to call you father! I don't know what you did to my mother, but if you treated her as———'
“Just then my husband found his voice. He sprang to his feet, and I've never seen such a look of rage. I thought he was going to strike Frederic, and I think I screamed—just a little scream, of course. I was so terrified. But he only said—and it was horrible the way he said it—'You fool—you bastard!' And Frederic laughed in his face and cried out, unafraid: 'I'm glad you call me a bastard! I'd rather be one than be your son. It would at least give me something to be proud of—a real father!'”
“Good Heaven!” fell from Mrs Desmond's white lips.
Yvonne seemed to have paused to catch her breath. Her breast heaved convulsively, the grip of her hands tightened on the arms of the chair.
Suddenly she resumed her recital, but her voice was hoarse and tremulous.
“I was terribly frightened. I thought of calling out to Jones, but I—I had no voice! Ah, you have never seen two angry men waiting to spring at each other's throats, Mrs Desmond. My husband suddenly regained control of himself. He was very calm. 'Come with me,' he said to Frederic. 'This is not the place to wash our filthy family linen. You say you want something to be proud of. Well, you shall have your wish. Come to my study.' And they went away together, neither speaking a word to me—they did not even glance in my direction. They went up the stairs. I heard the door close behind them—away up there. That was half an hour ago. I have been waiting, too—waiting as you are waiting now—to comfort Frederic when he comes out of that room a wreck.”
Mrs Desmond started up, an incredulous look in her eyes.
“You are taking his side? You are against your husband? Oh, now I know the kind of woman you are. I know———”
“Peace! You do not know the kind of woman I am. You will never know. Yes, I shall take sides with Frederic.”
“You do not love your husband!”