"I don't believe it," he said violently. "It's a try-on. A trick."
"It's true. You've got to believe it."
"Who's the man?" bayed Monty like a huge dog.
"I'll never tell you."
He gathered his powerful frame together as if to spring upon her. If he did, if he beat her to the ground, choked her into helplessness, Pat thought, she would hate him and love him for it. But his rage ebbed, impotent of its culmination, a little pitiful, a little ridiculous.
"Wh-wh-what did you do it for?" It was almost a whimper.
"I don't know. I didn't mean to—at the beginning."
"Did you love him?"
"Yes. I thought I did."