"No, I can't see both points of view," he said hoarsely. "I can see only her point of view, what she is, what she meant to do for you, what she gave you"—
"What she gave me!" Emmet echoed, springing to his feet in turn. "Hold on, professor. Be fair to a man. She gave me nothing that a wife should give, I tell you, nothing! She left me at the very door of the church and went off alone"—
"What!" Leigh cried. His revulsion of feeling was so great that he tottered and leaned against the wall for support. Only one thought possessed him, that she was not in reality this man's wife, after all. In the face of her desertion, the mere words of the marriage ceremony were as nothing.
"Why, man," he said, taking Emmet suddenly by the shoulder, as if he would shake a comprehension of his words into him, "you're not married, before God you're not married. What priestcraft notion has gotten hold of you? I tell you it's all a mistake. You've both made a mistake—and you've both found it out. Do you suppose, if she really loved you, she would have gone away like that, without giving you a chance to explain? If you really loved her, would you have kissed the first pretty girl that came in your way? I help you to win her back! Get her back yourself, if you can. I hope you can't do it. I don't wish you the luck you don't deserve. Don't come to me with your troubles!"
Emmet wrenched himself violently away and stood aghast.
"You love her yourself," he said, in a voice of wonder.
"And if I do," Leigh retorted defiantly, "what is that to you?"
"Nothing," Emmet answered, "nothing." And turning like one stupefied, he walked slowly away without another word.