She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. “You are a thousand times more beautiful,” he said, “than anything else could be. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. All make the same answer—'d—n you, keep it. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. Their faces had bite marks that were hers. And yet, as she rose slowly to her feet and stood looking at him with outstretched hands, a strange mixture of expressions shining in her wonderful eyes, he realized in some measure the strength of her determination, felt the utter impotence of anything which he could say to her. She laid her hand upon his arm.
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