The door slammed. He was gone.
She knew the man too well not to know he would make instantly for the nearest bar; the only question was what guise intoxication would assume in him, this time. It was possible that he would drink himself raving mad and return fit for murder.
She must make her escape with all possible expedition....
Instantly Joan sat up, dried her eyes, convulsively swallowed her sobs, and felt of her bruised mouth.
Before her on the carpet the diamond ring winked sardonically in the sunset light.
She pondered savagely the wide and deep damnation it had wrought in her life.
It seemed impossible that only a few minutes had elapsed since she had entered this room, an affectionate, patient, and not unhappy wife. Now she sifted her heart and found in it not one grain of the love it had once held for Quard. This alone would have rendered irrevocable her decision to leave him.
The thing was over—settled—finished.