“There's one question—a man dislikes to leave the woman he loves in actual danger.”
An expression of bewilderment passed across Duane's face.
“You admit that you are married?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Yet you speak as my daughter's lover. Does the fact of your marriage mean nothing to you?”
“Nothing whatever.”
“Oh, you are planning to fall back on the divorce court, perhaps?”
“Yes.” Brachey's head came up then. “Does love mean nothing to you?” he cried. “In your narrow, hard missionary heart is there no sympathy for the emotions that seize on a man and a woman and break their wills and shake them into submission?”
Looking up, he saw the color surge into Doane's face. Anger rose there again. The man seemed desperate, bitter. There was no way, apparently, to handle him; he was a new sort.
Doane crossed the room again; came back to the middle. He seemed to be biting his lip.