He nodded at Rule. “If you take any advice, Marcus, you’ll keep an eye on that chit,” he said severely, and walked out.
Left alone with her husband, Horatia stole a glance at him under her lashes. He was looking gravely down at her. She said, the stammer very pronounced: “Rule, I truly w-will try to be the s-sort of wife you w-wanted, and not m-make any m-more scandals or get into any scrapes.”
“You are the sort of wife I wanted,” he answered.
“Am-am I?” faltered Horatia, lifting her eyes to his face.
He came up to her. “Horry,” he said, “once you told me that I was rather old, but in spite of that we married one another. Will you tell me now, my dearest—was I too old?”
“You’re not old at all,” said Horatia, her face puckering. “You are j-just the right age for—for a husband, only I was young and stupid and I thought—I thought—”
He raised her hand to his lips. “I know, Horry,” he said. “When I married you there was another woman in my life. She is not there now, my darling, and in my heart she never had a place.”
“Oh, M-Marcus, put m-me there!” Horatia said on a sob.
“You are there,” he answered, and caught her up in his arms and kissed her, not gently at all, but ruthlessly, crushing all the breath out of her body.
“Oh!” gasped Horatia. “Oh, I n-never knew you could k-kiss like that!”