"I said to stop it," he gritted. "Come away this minute."
Madelene, crying now, was struggling to pull herself from Frederick's grasp.
"I want to talk to that woman before I go," she screamed in desperation. "Let me go, Fred! I will speak to her."
"You'll not if I can help it," answered Frederick. "Come out of here, I say!"
By main strength he was drawing his wife toward the door. Tess was staring at them as if they were creatures from another world.
"I'm sorry," Frederick said directly over Madelene's head to her. "Dreadfully sorry."
"Sorry!" shrieked Madelene. "Sorry for such a woman! Look what you've done to me, both of you!" She wrenched herself from the strong fingers and flung back to the squatter girl. "I want to know if my husband is the father—"
Frederick had hold of her once more. The anger in his white face was terrible to see.
"If you speak to her again," he said murderously, "I'll—I'll—"
"I suppose you'll kill me," shrilled his wife. "Well, go ahead! The only way you'll ever get her will be when I'm dead!" Then she thrust her white working face close to his. "If she won't speak, will you? You're my husband, and I find you here with this—this—.... Are you the father of her baby?"