"I do not know you, Peter," she protested, drawing away from him.
He released her as to the troubled surface of his mind there came an impulse of his old devotion.
"How can you do this thing?" he asked in a burst of grief. "You were the angel of my life."
Her pride sank at this.
"Peter, be just to me," she said. "This is a sacrifice."
He caught at the word, and returned to his old refrain.
"Sacrifice! You do not love Lord Wenderby."
"I shall be his wife. I am content to work with him."
"Lord Wenderby is old," said Peter brutally. "He has bribed you to give him all your beautiful years."
She shrank from the climbing rhetoric of his passion.