"Happy! Who gives a damn whether he's happy or not?" he cried, as if he couldn't believe that his ears had heard such an inopportune suggestion. "Emily! Don't you cry, Emily! I'll stop this!"
"Oh, Martha!" Emily moaned.
Then Bob cried, suddenly, "Let me see that letter!"
Martha got up and spoke quietly.
"Mother doesn't want us quarreling," she said. "You know that. It makes her feel worse. That's my letter and I'm not going to let you see it. I won't talk to you now. You're too mad. I'm going upstairs. You can talk it over together."
Bob sat helplessly down near his wife. He wanted so greatly, so clumsily to comfort her, that she lifted her face to him. She wiped her eyes, but her thoughts were too painful.
"Oh, did you hear how she said that? She's in LOVE with him, Bob!" She wept again.
He answered, shortly: "Well, don't you worry. If she is, she'll have to get over it. What business has she got being in love with a married man?"
"It's too horrible! It makes me sick. I see it all now. She has been infatuated with him since that first night. The way she looked at him—even then!"
"He's a skunk, Emily. He's a damned skunk. The nerve of him, coming down here to tell her he was getting a divorce! She thinks she's going to marry him. Why, the girl's a perfect fool! I'm going to see Fairbanks about this! Who is he, anyway? I'll get the goods on him! I'll put an end to this, once for all. Don't you cry, old girl! We can't have this going on any longer!"