Madison's fists clenched, and his gray eyes glinted angrily. His hands
had been tied like a baby's--like a damned infant's! Helena was getting
away from him further every day, and he couldn't stop it--without
stopping the game! He couldn't tell Thornton that Helena belonged to
him--had belonged to him! He couldn't even evidence an interest in what
was going on. He had to put on a front, a suave, cordial, dignified
front before Thornton--while he itched to smash the other's face to
pulp! Hell--that's what it was--pure, unadulterated hell! He couldn't
get near Helena alone with a ten-foot pole, morning, noon or night--she
had taken good care of that. And he wanted Helena--he _wanted_ her! It
was an obsession with him now--at times driving him half crazy,--and it
didn't help any that he saw her grow more glorious, more beautiful
every day! Of course she knew she had him--had him where she knew he
couldn't do a thing--where she could laugh at him--go the limit with
Thornton if she liked. But, curse it, it wasn't only Thornton--that was
what he could not understand--she had begun to keep away from him before
ever Thornton had come back.

Madison was near the porch now, and, raising his eyes, noted a
supplicant going into the shrine-room--a woman, richly dressed but in
widow's weeds, who walked feebly. The game went on by itself, once
started--there were half a hundred more about the lawn! Like a snowball
rolling down hill, as he had put it at the Roost. The Roost! If he only
had Helena back there for about a minute there'd be an end of this!
She'd go a little too far one of these days--a little too far--it was
pretty near far enough now--and then there'd be a showdown, game or no
game, and somebody would get hurt in the smash, and--

He lifted his eyes again, as some one came hurrying through the cottage