“Liar!”
As the word burst from his lips, he sprang at her, clutched her dress at the throat, and flung her violently upon her knees. A short cry of terror escaped her; then she was stricken dumb, with eyes starting and mouth open. It was well that he held her by the garment and not by the neck, for his hand closed with murderous convulsion, and the desire of crushing out her life was for an instant all his consciousness.
“Liar!” again burst from him. “Day after day you have lied to me. Liar! Adultress!”
“I am not! I am not that!”
She clung upon his arms and strove to raise herself. The bloodless lips, the choked voice, meant dread of him, but the distortion of her features was hatred and the will to resist.
“Not that? What is your word worth? The prostitute in the street is sooner to be believed. She has the honesty to say what she is, but you—Where were you yesterday when you were not at your sister’s? Where were you this afternoon?”
She had nearly struggled to her feet; he thrust her down again, crushed her backwards until her head all but touched the floor.
“Where were you? Tell the truth, or you shall never speak again!”
“Oh—help! help! He will kill me!”
Her cry rang through the room.