"What I say. It was getting too hot for him."
The meaning under his words came to her slowly. She watched him for a moment curiously, leaning toward him, studying the ugly lines at lip and brow that he no longer took pains to conceal. And then she guessed at the truth.
"What have you done with him?" she whispered.
"N—nothing."
"You lie." She knew no fear of him now, and leaned forward, clutching at his shoulder. "You've dealt unfairly with him—you've——" She halted in terror of her thoughts.
"He got what he deserved," he muttered sullenly.
"What have you done?" she repeated.
"Put him where he won't mess in my affairs again. See here, Moira," he caught her wrists and held her, "I'm just about fed up with this. I've been patient about long enough. You're my wife. And I'm going to keep you. Do you think after all I've suffered I'm going to stand for this kind of treatment now?"
"Let go my wrists—you're hurting me——"
"No——" Instead, he drew her closer to him. "I don't care about this foolishness with Jim. I think you can see that you've made a fool of yourself and of me. But I'm willing to forget it, if you'll do the square thing. I'm back here and I'm back to stay—and I'm going to make you love me whether you want to or not."