"No—you prefer making love to Lady Maxwell!"
He looked steadily a moment at her pallor and her furious eyes. Then he said, in another tone:
"Letty, does it ever occur to you that we have not been married yet five months? Are our relations to each other to go on for ever like this? I think we might make something better of them."
"That's your lookout. But as to these invitations, I have accepted them, and I shall go."
"I don't think you will. You would find it wouldn't do. Anyway,
Cathedine must be written to."
"I shall do nothing of the kind!" she cried.
"Then I shall write myself."
She rose, quivering with passion, supporting herself on the arm of her chair.
"If you do, I will find some way of punishing you for it. Oh, if I had never made myself miserable by marrying you!"
Their eyes met. Then he said: