As Ellen's face turned toward me again I saw a slow, deep scorn invade
it. "If I were free," she said to me, "if you were the last man on
earth, I would not look at you again. You deceived me--but that was only
a broken word, and not a broken life! This girl--indeed she may ask what
will become of her!"
"I am tired of all these riddles," I broke out, my own anger now
arising, and myself not caring to be made thus sport of petticoats.
"Your duty is clear," went on my new accuser, flashing out at me. "If
you have a trace of manhood left, then let the marriage be at
once--to-morrow. How dare you delay so long!" She choked in her own
anger, humiliation, scorn--I know not what, blushed in her own shame.
Orme was right. I have always been a stupid ass. It took me moments to
grasp the amazing truth, to understand the daring stroke by which Grace
Sheraton had won her game. It had cost her much. I saw her standing
there trembling, tearful, suffering, her eyes wet. She turned to me,
waiting for me to save her or leave her damned.
I would not do it. All the world will say that I was a fool, that I was
in no way bound to any abhorrent compact, that last that any man could
tolerate.
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