"Stop!" She stood before him like an outraged priestess. This time he did not shrink, but glared back at her balefully. "This is the end! We have come to the parting of the ways. I will never call you husband again. If you even speak to me, Thomas Braddock, I shall ask any one of a dozen men here to beat you as you deserve. Oh, they will be only too happy to do it! Now, hear me: I am going to take Christine away from you—forever. Don't curse me yet! Wait! I am not through. This very night I shall offer my share in this show to Colonel Grand. He may have it at his own price. If he will not buy, then I shall go forth and look for another purchaser. I—"
"You're my wife. You can't sell without my consent," he exclaimed.
"Then I will ask the court to give me the right. Now, go! I—"
"You can't take Christine. She's as much mine as she is—"
"I will hear no more. I have given you the last chance to be a man. This ends it!"
She turned and walked away from him. He knew that it was all over between them.
Considerably shaken, he went over and sat down on a trunk near the wall. Suddenly he sprang to his feet with a curious half-laugh, half-sob. He glared at the flap through which she had disappeared. A cunning, malevolent expression came into his pop-eyes.
"Sell out, will you?" he muttered. "I'll block that game. I'll sell out to him myself. That's what he wants."
He lifted the sidewall and passed out into the open air, directing his footsteps toward the ticket-wagon. Colonel Grand was leaving it as he came up.
"Hello, Brad," he said quite genially. "If I was a bit rough awhile ago, I apolo—"