‘What I saw. You don’t mean to deny that I saw you in Normandy some weeks ago, in company with Miss Craik?’
He took an angry turn across the room, and then, wheeling suddenly, faced her again.
‘I mean to deny nothing,’ he cried with unexpected passion. ‘I wish to have no communication whatever with you, by word or deed. I wish never to see your face again. As to Miss Craik, I tell you again that I will not discuss her with you, that I hold her name too sacred for you even to name. What has brought you back, to shadow my life with your infamous presence? Our paths divided long ago; they should never have crossed again in this world. Live your life; I mean to live mine; and now leave this sacred place, which you profane.’
But though her first impulse was to shrink before him, she remembered her position, and stood her ground.
‘If I go, I shall go straight to her, and tell her that I am your wife.’
‘It is a falsehood—you are no wife of mine.’
‘Pardon me,’ she answered with a sneer, ‘I can show her my marriage lines.’
As she spoke, he advanced upon her threateningly, with clenched hands.
‘Do so, and I will kill you. Yes, kill you! And it would be just. You have been my curse and bane; you are no more fit to live than a reptile or a venomous snake, and before God I would take your wicked life.’
His passion was so terrible, so overmastering, that she shrank before it, and cowered. He seized her by the wrist, and continued in the same tone of menace: