“I don’t yet quite understand, Henriette, your object in coming to Paris.” Hadria’s voice had grown calmer.
“I came to make an appeal to your sense of duty and your generosity.”
“Ah!”
“I came,” Henriette went on, bracing herself as if for a great effort, “to remind you that when you married, you entered into a contract which you now repudiate.”
Hadria started up, reddening with anger.
“I did no such thing, and you know it, Henriette. How do you dare to sit there and tell me that?”
“I tell you nothing but the truth. Every woman who marries enters, by that fact, into a contract.”
Miss Temperley had evidently regarded this as a strong card and played it hopefully.
Hadria was trembling with anger. She steadied her voice. “Then you actually intended to entrap me into this so-called contract, by leading me to suppose that it would mean nothing more between Hubert and myself than an unavoidable formality! You tell me this to my face, and don’t appear to see that you are confessing an act of deliberate treachery.”
“Nonsense,” cried Henriette. “There was nothing that any sane person would have objected to, in our conduct.”