He could not speak at first.
“What deviltry are you at now?” he demanded.
She tried to pass out, but he took hold of her by the shoulders, and made her hear.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Do you know what you are doing? If you have no shame or pity, have you no fear? Don’t try me too far, I tell you it’s not safe.”
His grasp hurt her cruelly, but she kept her head away, and made no sound.
Two hours later, Lawrence came home again and found no one in his house. He had a call to make to the west. Three miles out he turned into a bridle-path that led up to a height. Presently he came in sight of the top. The shadows were thick about him, but above the sunset flushed splendidly. On the crest sat two riders, close together. He bowed his head and rode away.
“Harry, you are a coward!” Cora was saying. “Oh, I wish I were a man!” She raised her arm with a passionate gesture. “We loved each other from the first, and he drove you away. I never cared for him; I had to marry him. And I tell you we live in misery. We are nothing but a torment to each other. And you do not know him. He is in love with another woman, and he is cruel. Look here!”
She threw back her mantle and slid her supple shoulder out of her dress.
“Those are the marks of his fingers!”