"You do know. Marie, stop walking about and come here."
"I can't; there's a lot to do, and I'm busy."
Chris strode across to her, tore the little frock she was folding from her hands and threw it down on the bed.
"I hate being treated like this!" he said passionately. "I won't have it! If you think I arranged to meet that infernal woman, why the devil can't you say so and have done with it?"
"I don't care if you arranged to meet her or not."
He laughed. "You do! I could see in your face at once that you were angry about it. Come, Marie Celeste, own up!"
He laid his hand on her arm carelessly, but she flung him off; his touch seemed to rouse all her pent-up passion and bitterness; her eyes blazed as she turned and faced him.
"How many more times am I to tell you that I don't care what you do or who you spend your time with? You can go out with Mrs. Heriot all day and every day for all I care. I should stay down here longer, if I were you; there's no need for you to come home."
She was trembling in every limb; she leaned against the end of the bed to steady herself.
Chris had flushed up to his eyes; he had a hot temper once it was 101 aroused, as Marie knew, and something in the way in which she looked at him had roused it now.