"Sure," he said, grinning; "I'm artist enough to know the value of vulgarity. It gives a wonderful punch, Helen—once in a lifetime."
"Oh, Phil! You horrify me. I didn't understand that you are just a plain, every-day, bad-tempered, brutal, selfish and violent man——"
"Dearest, I am! And thank God you are woman enough to stand for it.... Are you?"
They had reached the house and were standing on the porch now, her hands restlessly twisting in his sun-browned grasp, her pretty head averted, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Are you?" he repeated sternly.
"Am I, what? Oh, Phil, you hurt me—my rings hurt——"
"Then don't twist your fingers. And answer me; are you woman enough to stand for the sort of everyday human man that you say I am? Are you?"
She said something under her breath.
"Did you say yes?" he demanded.
She nodded, not looking at him.