Scorn of Women: A Play In Three Acts - Jack London

(Expostulating.)

Now look here, I say, whose game is this?

(Freda laughs her silvery laughter, it is laughter of amusement only.)

(To Mrs. Eppingwell, still laughing, accusingly.)

You did this.

(Nodding.)

I had tried everything else to stop him from running away.