She started up as if his hand had been the thin lash of a whip through her cloak.
“Don’t touch me! Marry you! It is impossible for anyone like you to understand. You don’t know how near I am to desperate crime—only I am a coward. That makes you safe—I am a coward. I wish Edred would come home. If only I knew where to find him!”
“The address is in my pocket-book,” he sneered. “But you can’t be serious. What do you want him for? You can’t alter things. If you nag at him, he’ll only laugh, or hit you.”
“If he would only come back,” she moaned. “If I could touch him, see him, speak to him. I feel so alone, so incapable and miserable.”
“You want to have it out with him?”
“I want him,” she returned simply.
Then Sutton lost his temper.
“You are an idiot,” he said flatly. “I make you a good offer; not many men would make it, and you can only——”
She laughed contemptuously, looking full in his eyes.
“You droll, contemptible creature,” she said with limitless scorn. “Of course you don’t understand. How should you? I am going out—never mind where. I am coming back—or I am not—according to my mood. You needn’t be certain of anything—but the one thing: I don’t intend to marry you!”