"I'll not have my child branded the child of a felon!" she rushed on in an impetuous burst. "I know better than you yourself where you are heading; so far as I'm concerned, it ends now! My marriage vow to you has ended. My obligations to you have ended. What I now have to do, is to live and act and hope for the child that I shall bring into the world. If you persist in your course, the blame is not mine but yours. I am giving you your chance."
Armstrong was absolutely stunned, as much by the savage conviction of her manner as by what she said. He comprehended that she was speaking from a terrible sincerity—but he could not understand it.
"Dot—" He checked himself, paused, forced himself into a semblance of calmer speech. "Dot, I swear before heaven that I don't know what you're talking about! Somehow, Macgowan must have reached you—"
"He has not. Will you give up this fight, or give me up?" she demanded coldly.
He was terrified afresh by her air.
"I can't talk about it now, Dot. I'm all unstrung—in no shape to think or speak calmly. I can only hope that what you've said is assignable to your condition, that you can't realize what you are saying—"
"You dare to attack my sanity, do you?" she burst forth.
Armstrong made a despairing gesture. "I'm not attacking you—for heaven's sake, Dot, try and be calm!" The cry was wrenched from him. "We'll take this thing up again after luncheon, dear; I'll have to learn what's in your mind. You know I'll not give up this fight. You know I simply can't give up, abandon the people who trust and look to me! I'll not do it, no matter who asks it."
"Very well. If that's your decision—"
"It is my decision—and I'll not change it!" he exclaimed in a gust of anger. "It's bitterly wrong of you to ask such a thing. But let all that go now, Dot; we'll take it up after luncheon and thrash it out calmly. I'll have to get calmed down a bit."