mind subconsciously absorbed the fact that it was a little sheaf of
yellow-backed bills. And now the man bent to the table and was writing
in the book.

Yellow-backs and rubies! Rubies and yellowbacks! Madison's lips thinned
and curled downward at the corners. Oh, it was coming all right, money,
jewels, pelf, rolling in merrily every day, there wasn't any stopping
it, but he was paying for it, and paying for it at a price he didn't
like--Helena. Helena! She wanted Thornton, did she--with his money!
Wanted to dangle a millionaire on her string--eh? She'd throw him
over--would she! And she thought she had him where he couldn't lift a
finger to stop it--just sit back and grin like a poor, sick fool!

The red crept up the knotted cords of Madison's neck, suffused the set
jaws, and, as though suddenly liberated to run its course where it
would, swept in a tide over cheeks and temples.

He couldn't do a thing--_couldn't he!_ Well, he'd see the game in
Gehenna before Thornton or any other man got her away from him. She
belonged to him--to _him!_ And he'd have her, hold her, own her--she was
his--_his!_ And he'd settle with Thornton too, by Heaven!

A laugh, low, unpleasant, purled to his lips--and he checked it with a
sort of strange mechanical realization that he must not laugh aloud. His
eyes swept the room--the man had returned to his seat, the woman had not
moved, both were silent, motionless--that ghastly, hallowed,
sanctimonious hush--that subdued, damnable light--meditation!

"For God's sake let me get out of here," he muttered, "or I'll go mad."