"Jack!"
It was a physical rage that held him now, a rage divided against itself—that longed to strike down, to crush, to stifle the thing it coveted. He had almost a fear of himself. He cried:
"If you don't go, I'll—I'll—"
Suddenly he found something more brutal than a blow, something that must drive her away, while yet he had the strength of his passion. He crossed his arms, looking at her with a cold look.
"I'll tell you why you came back. You went to him for just one reason. You thought he had more money than I had. You came back when you found he hadn't."
He saw her body quiver and it did him good.
"That ends it," she said, hardly able to speak. She dropped her head hastily, but not before he had seen the tears.
"Absolutely."
In a moment she would be gone. He felt all at once uneasy, ashamed—she seemed so fragile.
"My cloak—give me my cloak," she said, and her voice showed that she accepted his verdict.