He would have put his arms about her but she pushed them away.
“And swearing at me,” she sobbed. “And using language that—”
“I didn't mean to swear, Serena. I never swore at you before in my life. I didn't mean to this time. It just seemed to come out all of itself. Please forgive me, won't you? Please?”
But Serena was not ready to forgive. The sleepless nights and days of wild excitement had thrown her nerves into a state where it needed but the slightest jar to break them completely. She sobbed, and choked, and gasped, her fingers clutching at her hair. Daniel, hanging over her, tried in vain to put in a word.
“Please, Serena,” he kept saying. “Please.”
Suddenly the sobs ceased. Serena's hands struck the desk and she rose so abruptly that her husband had scarce time to get out of her way.
“Serena,” he cried.
But Serena cut him short. “Go away,” she commanded. “Go away and leave me. I don't want to speak to you again.”
“But, Serena—”
“Go away. Don't come near me again to-night. Go, go, GO!”