"Eleanor! I've a great mind to go back to that hell-cat, and tell her
what I think of her!"

"No. Very likely she's right. I--I have injured you. Oh, Maurice, if I
_have_--"

"You'd have injured me a damn sight more if you hadn't married me!" he
said.

But for the moment her certainty that her marriage was a glorious and
perfect thing, collapsed; her voice was a broken whisper:

"If I've spoiled your life--she says I have;--I'll ... kill myself,
Maurice." She spoke with a sort of heavy calmness, that made a small,
cold thrill run down his back; he burst into passionate protest:

"All I am, or ever can be, will be because you love me! Darling, when
you say things like--like what you said, I feel as if you didn't love
me--"

Of course the reproach tautened her courage; "I do! I do! But--"

"Then never say such a wicked, cruel thing again!"

It was when Bingo had been left with Mrs. O'Brien that, on their way
back to the hotel, Maurice, in a burst of enthusiasm, invited his third
bad moment: "I am going to have a rattling old dinner party to celebrate
your escape from the hag! How about Saturday night?"