"Madame, I trust you are well?"
They looked at each other askance like angry dogs, as they rode side by side, and the night came down. The men left them to themselves, and went on ahead. A wind grew gusty over the moor.
"THEY LOOKED AT EACH OTHER ASKANCE LIKE ANGRY DOGS."
"Messire, I have borne enough from you."
"Madame, is it fault of mine?"
His whole soul revolted from her with an immensity of hate. She cumbered, clogged, crushed him. Mad brutality leapt in his heart towards her. He could have smitten the woman through with his sword.
"Five years ago----" she said.
"You did the wooing. Damnation, we have been marvellously happy."
She bit her lip and was white as the moon.