"You have," she said, with an accent of gladness. "Then what do you think we had better do?"
"I think you had better go home to your mother," he answered, brutally.
She looked up at him in surprise and doubt.
"You mean to own our marriage, then, do you?" she asked, and there was a faint suggestion of hope in her tone.
"No, by George! I don't," he answered quickly.
"You don't," she exclaimed. "Then how can I go home? They would—they would think I had disgraced myself. Father would turn me out of doors!"
"I'm very sorry for you, then," he answered, coolly. "I see no other resource for you."
"Leon, I don't know what you mean!" exclaimed Jennie, in surprise and pain at his careless words and utterly indifferent manner; "you are not one bit like yourself. What makes you talk so strange to your own wife?"
She looked up at the handsome man with the tears of wounded feeling starting into her eyes, but all unconscious of the terrible blow that was to fall upon her defenseless head.
"You are not my wife!" he replied, with a dark and threatening frown.