But all my fear had left me. I felt an almost murderous impulse. I wanted to strike him on the face.
"If you attempt to touch me I will throw myself out of the window," I said.
"No fear of that," he said, catching me quickly in his arms.
"If you do not take your hands off me I'll shriek the house down," I cried.
That was enough. He let me go and dropped back from me. At the next moment I was breathing with a sense of freedom. Without resistance on my husband's part I entered the little bedroom to the left and locked the door behind me.
THIRTY-SEVENTH CHAPTER
Some further time passed. I sat by the fireless grate with my chin in my hand. If the storm outside was still raging I did not hear it. I was listening to the confused sounds that came from the sitting-room.
My husband was pacing to and fro, muttering oaths, knocking against the furniture, breaking things. At one moment there was a crash of glass, as if he had helped himself to brandy and then in his ungovernable passion flung the decanter into the fire grate.
Somebody knocked at the sitting-room. It must have been a waiter, for through the wall I heard the muffled sound of a voice asking if there had been an accident. My husband swore at the man and sent him off. Hadn't he told him not to come until he was rung for?