"I can be ready to travel soon," she cried. "In a fortnight—in ten days—ask the doctor!"
Bert made three strides across the room, hurling with violence the flowers he carried into the English grate.
"So you'll break your word," he began, and choked
Melicent turned her head towards him languidly.
"Bert Mestaer," said she, "have I ever once, since you knew me, said one word to make you think I liked you?"
He fought with himself for composure to enable him to bring out the monosyllable, "No."
"Then what d'you wanter marry me for?" she asked calmly.
"You know," he cried, terribly, wildly, in his frantic emotion. "You know I love you—you know I don't care for anything else, but just to have you! Where'd you be now, if it wasn't for me? Tell me that! I wish to God I'd never seen you! I'll—I'll kill you with my own hands before I'll let you go now! I'll do worse—I'll..."
He stopped himself suddenly, meeting the steady contempt of Mayne's eyes.
There was a moment of awful silence, broken only by two dry, tearing sobs from the furious lover; then Millie, who had turned chalk-white once more, fell back among her pillows with an impatient motion of the hand.