I sprang up, half expecting Letty to rush in—but she did not—and after a moment I went over to my brother and laid my hand on his shoulder to steady him.
“Ben, do you mean that?”
“Get her away—quick!”
“That’s a big responsibility to take,” I said slowly. “Your mind’s made up?”
He dug his fingers into his arms and, in the breath that went through him, I felt a sudden vacillation.
“Ben,” I said, sternly. “Stick to your guns. Care for you? All she cares is to know she can make you suffer. Sit down.”
I went on tiptoe to the door and flung it open. As I had known, she was there, listening. But it is dangerous to try such a woman as Letty too far, and the blind rage I saw in her face at this exposure so frightened me that, closing the door behind me, I clapped my hand over her mouth and picked her up bodily.
“The scene is over, and out you go,” I said, savagely. She did not struggle but suddenly became quiet and inert and, with the devilish instinct that was in her to wound me, her arms closed softly about my neck. I wrenched myself free, loathing the hated perfume of her body, and set her down in the hall.
“So, you have told him?” she said quickly, keen for the pretense at dramatics.