“One man?”
“These mawkish airs of innocence don’t impress me. We’ve been quite bare to each other for twelve months. You came here; forced yourself on me. Why couldn’t you stay behind like a sensible, modest woman, and marry Jethro? I was getting on perfectly well, wasn’t I? Did I look as if I wanted you?”
“Edred!”
“That parrot cry will make me murder you some day. Be a woman, with a clear head on your shoulders, not a sniveling fool. Be a wife to me.” A queer, mocking expression contracted his thin mouth. “Help me when you can. If you offend Milligan——”
“I’ll never speak to him again. Good Heavens! You don’t want me——”
He sprung up from the table, took her by the trembling shoulder, and swung her round.
“I don’t care what the devil you do,” he said deliberately.
She looked weakly up into his face, saw that he meant it, and began to shake and sob. This was the worst blow he could deal. He meant it! Hitherto she had attributed his brutalities to business worry.
She cried violently, hopelessly. She was all tears. She had no spirit left, except the spirit that vents itself in extravagant words. Suddenly she darted to the open window.
“If I were to jump down,” she began desperately; her feverish hands clawed round the ledge, her wild eyes turned inward to the room.