Harboro seemed staggered again. “I want his answer to that,” he insisted.
“Well, then, I don’t want to marry him,” continued Sylvia.
Harboro ignored her. “What do you say, Runyon?”
“In view of her unwillingness, and the fact that she is already married——”
“Runyon!” The word was pronounced almost like a snarl. Runyon had adopted a facetious tone which had stirred Harboro’s fury.
Something of the resiliency of Runyon’s being vanished at that tone in the other man’s voice. He looked at Harboro ponderingly, as a child may look at an unreasoning parent. And then he became alert again as Harboro threw at him contemptuously: “Go on; get out!”