He shrank involuntarily.
"Pale and nervous," she added, "and a fit subject for bed. Was Old
Silky disagreeable to-day? I thought him as sweet as peaches tonight.
Did you notice Mrs. Van Dam's famous diamonds? It's not often she
wears them all. Milicent got her to do it."
"I was in the greenhouse before dinner, Cora," said Shelby, speaking with slow emphasis. "I saw you and Ludlow."
"Oh, yes," returned the woman, glibly, "we were wondering whether the large drawing-room needed a few more palms."
"I saw you and Ludlow in one another's arms," pursued her husband in the same hard staccato. "I saw him kiss you."
She half rose, eying him fearfully; then, reassured by what she saw, sank back in her seat, fingering the long glove she had partly drawn from one white arm. As on that other night, her faultless shoulders rose from a black setting of laces and shining jet, and, manlike, Shelby took the garment for the same which had helped to warp the fabric of his life from its design. The remembrance maddened him.
"Speak, you devil," he charged.
"I love him," she returned defiantly. "I love him."
"And my wife!"
"I was Joe's wife—before."