Part 49 (2/2)
”I'll tell you what you've done. You've let a pa.s.sing fancy for a woman make you forget that you're my husband. I won't share you with another woman, even if she will.”
”Why, last night, when I came home, you were as loving----”
Her glance bayoneted him. ”I've told you before of that Allie Durfield, the poor girl who'd ended up on Butler's Avenue. I've told you the bitterness with which she said, 'You engaged girls cause us the trouble.
After your man's spent an evening with you, we pay for it.' I didn't understand her then; I do now. You spend the evening with this woman, then come home ... you call me loving! I wonder you can look me in the face!”
”You exaggerate everything, as usual. We haven't done a thing----”
”You've kissed her.”
”That was nothing.”
”It's this much. Either you give me your word now that you will not see her again, or--see only her ... and whoever else your fancy dictates.
I'm through. I'll go back to Mrs. Anderson's and let you ... let you....” Her voice broke; she tumbled weakly, weeping and distraught, against the couch.
He was at her side in an instant. She rose, flinging the tears flying.
”Keep away! How _dare_ you touch me! I suppose you thought I'd cry and make up?... Will you give me your word?” There was a plaintive affection even through the sternness. ”Dearest, we can't have our marriage on a rotten foundation.”
He fumed to the front door and back, the discarded magazine rustling unnoticed upon the scattered letters. ”I'll do anything in reason, Jane.
But this is unreasonable, and you know it. You mustn't carry your penchant for running away from situations too far.” She flushed at the reference. ”I'll agree, of course, not to be unfaithful; but you can't choose whom I may and may not speak to. Common decency----It's ridiculous.”
”We can't have a half-way marriage. This has gone too far.... Make your choice. You can't burn both ends of your candle....”
”Anything within reason, Jane.”
”You'll promise, then?”
”No.” The cruel monosyllable crushed the joy rising in her voice. ”It's too ridiculous,” he repeated.
There was a dangerous hush in her voice. ”You understand the alternative? I leave to-morrow.”
”If you're bound to be foolish, I can't stop you. I won't force you to stay here.”
”I should say not!”
”You'll come to your senses soon enough. A good night's sleep will cure your tantrum.”
Casually he jerked a match against the sole of his shoe. The sputtering head spun smokily into the carpet. He stamped it out, and lit another.
s.h.i.+elding the flame from the night breeze, he relit his pipe. When he looked up, she had left the room.
He knocked considerately on her door at breakfast time. A m.u.f.fled voice told him that she had a headache, and was not coming out. Well, if she was going to act that way! She was bound to see the matter more reasonably. Probably she was ashamed now to admit that she had been wrong.
He was glad that he had only admitted one kiss....
Disturbed at the thought of the unfinished quarrel, he ran out unannounced to the house for lunch. Voluble Lily, her eyes rolling, informed him that Miss' Jane had left an hour before, and that her trunk had gone too. ”An' she said dat you'ud know whar she had gone, Mr.
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