I took a menacing step toward him as he said this. He faced me with an assumption of bravery.
“I’m leaving her to you,” he went on, “What has happened has been—unfortunate—” His voice faltered, but he drew his lips tightly together and continued.
“Perhaps it has been for the best—perhaps the future may hold more happiness for you both than the past gave you.”
I could listen to no more of this.
“Go,” I said sharply.
He picked up his hat and coat which were lying near by. Then, avoiding Ruth’s eyes, he turned again to me.
“I will,” he said. He hesitated. Then:
“For her sake I hope you will become a man,” he added.
He met Ruth’s tearful eyes in good-by and before I could answer this last insult, he had left the room.
I sent Ruth to her bedroom immediately; she was sobbing hysterically, in no fit mental condition for me to talk with then. Some hours later—after I had dined alone, I went in to see her.