He looked at the crouching, pleading figure and the anger in his face gave way to an expression as indescribable as unforgettable, and he sharply turned away.
"Well, what is it then? Be quick! What do you want?" he demanded roughly.
She sank to her knees and raised her hands to him in piteous appeal.
"Louis, forgive me! For——"
"What!" His voice startled her like a pistol shot. But she stammered on:
"Forgive me, Louis, so——"
He slammed the door and in two strides was standing over with clenched fists. She could not meet his furious eyes and her head bowed almost to his feet.
"Forgive you! Forgive you!" and he laughed a short, bitter laugh that was more terrible and hope-destroying than curses would have been to the crouching woman. "For two years I have lived day and night with the thought of you in another man's arms and your kisses on his lips! And you ask me to forgive you! You——"
"Louis! Louis!" she moaned. "In our child's name——"
"Stop!" he broke in sternly. "Don't dare to mention him! He is nothing to you and you are nothing to him! He is mine—mine only! Did you think of him when you left us?"