He was livid with anger. She crouched on the floor afraid of him.
"So this is it." He paced the floor like a tiger. "A lover! This is the meaning of the lonely evening walks—the repulse of your husband and his caresses, the distaste for his company." He suddenly stopped before her, dragging her to her feet.
"Who is the man? Answer me. Who is the man?"
She put out her hands as though to avoid a blow.
"There is no man, no lover, I swear to you."
"Who, then, were you bidding not come to you,—who did you call your love?"
She only cried without answering.
"Who was it?" he thundered at her.
"I swear to you nobody; you must believe me."
"You are lying to me."
She faced him proudly.
"Prove it," she said. "Have you heard a rumour of my being seen with any one? Have you yourself cause to suspect me? It is I who ask you. Who is it?"
A flush of shame passed over him. He
