Trampy was dumfounded and utterly floored by the revelation. What! He! He! Lily had married him because of that! Because ... And people said it! And talked about it!
“Come along, Lily,” said Trampy. “Let’s go home.”
And, giving no further heed to Poland, who followed him with a mocking smile, he took Lily by the arm and went out with her.
Lily felt her arm shake. Trampy was furious, evidently. She saw her mistake, too late. There would be a stormy scene when they got in. Well, who cared? She was resolved, under that obstinate forehead of hers, to face the facts. She had had enough of this husband. And she meant to know, that very moment, if she was married or not ... because with him one never knew. When she admitted that she had married him because of “that,” Trampy, in his humiliation would put her out of doors at once; if the marriage wasn’t valid, he would get rid of her. There was no doubt about it.
And she did not have to wait, for Trampy, even before they were out of the theater, in the passage, among the trunks and properties, Trampy, unable to restrain himself any longer, seized her by the wrists and looked her straight in the face:
“Is it true?” he asked, in a voice trembling with rage.
Lily, without replying, lowered her eyes as though to say yes, like a good little wife, oh, so sorry to offend her husband!
“And,” said Trampy, choking with shame, “you married me for ‘that:’ me, Trampy!”
“Yes,” said Lily confusedly.
“Damn you!” cried Trampy. “Oh, if we weren’t married for good, wouldn’t I just make you sleep out to-night!”