"The desert–and hell for us both!" he fiercely cried. "Let me get out of this!"
In that moment of repulse Maud Morris assumed her true character, and Britton read behind her eyes for the first time. She did not lack a soul; the soul leaped out at him, but it was as the advance of a serpent, malignant and revengeful. Her beauty lost itself in a hard, bright mask of undistinctive flesh and eyes.
"If you go, I'll ruin you!" she warned, in a voice hoarse with jealous fury. "I'll spoil you for the dear eligibles from one end of England to the other!"
Britton gazed at her transformation before answering, and wondered why he had loved her.
"Your husband will do that," he said at last. "I hardly expect to keep out of court."
"Reflect!" she said harshly. "He cannot do it as I can."
The knots of the portière cords would not yield to Britton's pull, and he tore the silken curtains down in a heap upon the floor. Their clinging folds seemed symbolic of their siren-like owner, and the man shuddered as he dropped them from his fingers.
"You will not reflect?"
"The enormity of your proposal precludes reflection," said Britton, witheringly.
"It's war then?" Her tone was steely.