“That was not the word I read.”
“Good God, Betty!”
“It was this.”
She spoke the word without flinching, with a distinctness that had that cold and terrible conciseness that science loves. Her eyes did not leave her husband’s face. Even as he answered her, hotly, haltingly, she knew him to be a liar.
“Impossible! You are seizing on a mad coincidence, a mere ridiculous conclusion. I can swear—”
“Yes, swear—”
“That it is nothing, nothing of what you have said.”
His eyes had the furtive fierceness of eyes searching her soul for unbelief.
“Come, Betty, wife—”
She remained unmoved.