“About me! as if you ever gave me a thought!” he sneers. “I hate to be fooled.”
“Fooled!” she repeats. “Oh! Delaval, what have I done to make you say such things?”
“Done! why you have married me, loving that scoundrel Conway!” he blurts furiously. “Nice thing it is for a man to know every day and night of his life that his wife is eating her heart out for a fellow like that!”
She has slid down on the floor by this time, and looks up at him with a blanched, scared face, and piteous eyes.
It seems to her that in this moment the love she has learned to look upon as her dearest, dearest possession is gone out of her grasp.
Delaval must hate her, or he could not glare at her like this, he could not say such awful, awful things.
“Well?” he asks, “have you nothing to answer in self-defence? How dared you come to an honest man’s home with infidelity in your heart, lies on your lips. Don’t you know that you are a wicked——”
“For God’s sake Delaval! For God’s sake! don’t say such things to me!” she interrupts hastily. “If you believe me to be so false—so bad—send me away from you, but I cannot live with you and learn that I have lost your love!”
“Poor little woman!” he says, half relenting; “we cannot control our affections, so why should I blame you after all?”
“Won’t you believe me if I swear, Delaval?”