you--oh! if he did not love you infinitely more now than then--he would
not be Leonard Byington. That is all my evidence, all my argument, all
the ground of my hate; and I hate him with a hatred that has
finished--finished!--with my heart, and is devouring my brain."

"Oh, my poor husband, listen to"--

"Listen to me!" he broke in. "Listen before I lose the blessed impulse
to say there is but one cure. I must give you up to Leonard Byington.
Oh, let me speak! I took you from him by law; by law I will give you
back."

"Do you mean divorce, Arthur?"

"I do."

"On what ground?"

"On the ground of ill treatment. You shall bring suit; I will plead
guilty."

She rose, with his temples still in her hands. "Ah! whose words are idle
now?"

She bent over him with eyes of passionate kindness. "You did not take me
from him. You asked me to take you, and for better for worse, till death
us do part, I took you, Arthur, knowing as much of any other man's love
for me as I know at this hour. You could not steal me; the shame would
be mine, to have let you. You are no thief! I am no stolen thing! You
shall be happy with me; you shall not give me up!"