Jasper began his pacing. Feeling carefully for delicate phrases, he
told her Betty's accusation, of her purpose.
Joan took off her hat, pushed back the hair from her forehead; then,
as he came to the end, she looked up at him. Her pupils were larger
than usual and the light, frosty tint of rose had left her cheeks.
"Would you mind telling me that again?" she asked.
He did so, more explicitly.
"She thinks, Betty thinks, that I have been--that we have been--? She
thinks that of me? No wonder she hasn't been coming to see me!" She
stopped, staring blindly at him; then, "You must tell her it isn't
true," she said pitifully, and the quiver of her lips hurt him.
"Ah! But she doesn't want to believe that, my dear. She wants to
believe the worst. It is her opportunity to escape me."
"Haven't you loved her? Have you hurt her?" asked Joan.
"God knows I have loved her. I have never hurt her--consciously. Even
she cannot think that I have."
"Why must she blame me? Why do I have to be brought into this, Mr.
Morena? Can't she go away from you? Why do the lawyers have to take it
up? You are unhappy, and I am so sorry. But you wouldn't want her to
stay if--if she doesn't love you?"
"I want her. I mean to keep her or--break her." He turned his back to
say this and went toward the window. Joan, fascinated, watched his
fingers working into one another, tightening, crushing. "It's another
man she wants," he said hoarsely, "and if I can prevent it, she shall
not have him. I will force her to keep her vows to me--force her. If
it kills her, I'll break this passion, this fancy. I'll have her
back--" He wheeled round, showing a twitching face. "I'll prove her
infidelity whether she's been unfaithful or not, and then I'll take
her back, after the world has given her one of its names--"
"You don't love her," said Joan, very white. "You want to brand her."
"By God!" swore the Jew, "and I will brand her. I'll brand her."
He fumbled in his pocket and brought out the small envelope Woodward
Kane had handed to him the day before. He stood turning the letter
about in his hands as though some such meaningless occupation was a
necessity to him. Joan's eyes, falling upon the letter, widened and
fixed.