“Whom you called dear, and kissed often enough till you thought I liked her, and then—Hang it all, Madge, are you utterly without shame!”
She shrank from him as if his words were thongs which cut into her flesh, but as he ceased speaking, with a passionate sob, she flung her arms about his neck, and clung tightly there.
“Rob! Don’t, I can’t bear it,” she cried. “You don’t know what I have suffered—what agony all this has caused.”
“There, there, that will do,” he said contemptuously. “I am engaged, my dear.”
She sprang from him, and a fierce light burned in her eyes for a moment, but disappointment and her despair were too much for her, and she flung herself upon his breast.
“No, no, Rob, dear, it isn’t true. I couldn’t help hating Judith or any woman who came between us. You don’t mean all this, and it is only to try me. You cannot—you shall not marry Glynne; and as to Judith, it is impossible now.”
“Give over,” he said roughly, as he tried to free himself from her arms.
“No, you sha’n’t go. I must tell you,” she whispered hoarsely amidst her sobs. “I hate Judith, but she is nothing—not worthy of a thought I will never mention her name to you again, dear.”
“Don’t pray,” he cried sarcastically. “If you do, I shall always be seeing you gloating over her trouble as I saw you this morning.”
“It was because I loved you so, Rob,” she murmured as she nestled to him. “It was because I felt that you were mine and mine only, after the past; and all that was forcing her away from you.”