"It's true—isn't it? Answer me!"
She gazed at him wide-eyed, and now for the first time he saw how ill she looked. Even at that moment he was sure that pity and love and a desire for possession were still the feelings that dominated him. She could not stand the gaze of his eyes. They seemed to burn through her, so she lowered her head.
"Yes," she admitted brokenly, "it's true—I was in his arms."
A sound came from his throat—a guttural sound half-choked in the utterance, as he dropped her, turned violently and in a stride was at the door. But as the key turned in the lock, she started forward and clutched him by the sleeve.
"Wait," she whispered piteously. "You must. You can't go now. You've got to know everything."
"I think I've had enough. I'm going." He turned the knob and opened the door, but she leaned against it and pushed it shut.
"You've got to listen. I have some rights still—the right every woman has to defend her name."
"If she can," he sneered.
"I can—I will. Will you listen?" He shrugged his shoulders and walked past her to the window. Camilla faced him, beginning slowly, breathlessly. "It was when we first came to New York that it began—that day when you and your—you and General Bent came in from downtown. Cortland was there—I—I thought I had forgotten him. I was happy with you. I was beginning to believe that, after all, we hadn't made a mistake. But you were away all day and I was lonely. The city was so vast, so unfriendly. I had no right to be lonely but I was. I was bewildered by all the magnificence and homesick for Mesa City. That day Cort Bent came in I had a fit of the blues. He brought back all the old story—and told me how you stole the mine."
Jeff laughed aloud. "So he told you that—did he? For sympathy?" he sneered.