“In a fortnight or three weeks.”
“Send me word of the day, so that I may know when I can breathe again.”
“I shall send you word, Coralie, but for another reason.”
“So that you may join me.”
“Join you!”
He gave a cruel smile:
“You are my wife,” he said. “Where the husband goes the wife goes; and you know that, in my religion, the husband has every right over his wife, including that of life and death. Well, you’re my wife.”
Coralie shook her head, and, in a tone of indescribable contempt, answered:
“I am not your wife. I feel nothing for you but loathing and horror. I don’t wish to see you again, and, whatever happens, whatever you may threaten, I shall not see you again.”