reason, I presume, as that for which you married me?"

She flinched at that--flinched as if he had struck her across the face.
"Oh, you brute!" she said, and shuddered back against Merryon's
supporting arm. "You wicked brute!"

It was then that Merryon wrenched himself free from that paralysing
constriction that bound him, and abruptly intervened.

"Puck," he said, "go! Leave us! I will deal with this matter in my own
way."

She made no move to obey. Her face was hidden in her hands. But she was
sobbing no longer, only sickly shuddering from head to foot.

He took her by the shoulder. "Go, child, go!" he urged.

But she shook her head. "It's no good," she said. "He has got--the
whip-hand."

The utter despair of her tone pierced straight to his soul. She stood as
one bent beneath a crushing burden, and he knew that her face was
burning behind the sheltering hands.

He still held her with a certain stubbornness of possession, though she
made no further attempt to cling to him.

"What do you mean by that?" he said, bending to her. "Tell me what you
mean! Don't be afraid to tell me!"