"You talk of forgiveness!" he cried. "Why, I only wonder that I can keep my hands off your throat. I hate the sight of you—I curse the day I first saw your face! Do you know what you have done, by letting me believe that you were dead? You have probably broken the heart of one who is as good and pure as you are vile and treacherous—the woman whom I love and would have married."
Diane's features hardened, and a sudden rage flashed in her half-veiled eyes; her repentant impulse died as quickly.
"So that is your answer!" she exclaimed, harshly. "And there is another woman! You shall never marry her—never!"
"You fiend!"
The threat goaded Jack to fury, and he might have lost his self-control. But just then quick footsteps fell timely on his ear.
"Get behind that screen, or go into the next room," he muttered. "No; it won't matter—it must be Nevill."
Diane held her ground.
"I don't care who it is," she said, shrilly. "I will tell the world that I am your wife."
The next instant the door was thrown open, and a woman entered the studio and came hesitatingly forward under the glare of the gas-jets. With a rapid movement she partly tore off her long, hooded cloak, which was dripping with rain. Jack quivered as though he had been struck a blow.
"Madge!" he gasped, recognizing the lovely, agitated face.