"Daisy must not go back with you; I shall not suffer that," Mr. McDonald
said, while Daisy, still keeping her arms around Guy's neck, where she
had put them when he drew her to him, replied:

"Oh, Guy! I can't go with you now; but I shall like you always, and I'm
so sorry for you. I never wanted to be married; but if I must, I'd
better have married Tom, or that old Chicago man; they would not feel so
bad, and I'd rather hurt them than you."

The utter childishness of the remark roused Guy, and with a gesture of
impatience, he put Daisy from him, and, rising to his feet, said
angrily:

"This, then is your decision, and I accept it; but, Daisy, if you have
in you a spark of true womanhood you will some time be sorry for this
day's work; while you!" and he turned fiercely upon Mr. McDonald--"words
cannot express the contempt I feel for you; and know, too, that I
understand you fully, and am certain that were I the rich man I was when
you gave your daughter to me, you would not have taken her away. But I
will waste no more words upon you. You are a villain! and Daisy is--"
His white lips quivered a little as he hesitated a moment, and then
added: "Daisy was my wife."

Then, without another word, he left the house, nor saw the white,
frightened face which looked after him so wistfully until a turn in the
street hid him from view.