“But you can’t go any farther than that,” I said.  “Between you, you have forced me to marry you, but nobody can force me to obey you, because I won’t.”

I saw his face grow paler and paler as I spoke, and when I had finished it was ashen-white.

“So that’s how it is, is it?” he said, and for some minutes more he tramped about the room, muttering inaudible words, as if trying to account to himself for my conduct.  At length he approached me again and said, in the tone of one who thought he was making peace: 

“Look here, Mary.  I think I understand you at last.  You have some other attachment—­that’s it, I suppose.  Oh, don’t think I’m blaming you.  I may be in the same case myself for all you know to the contrary.  But circumstances have been too strong for us and here we are.  Well, we’re in it, and we’ve got to make the best of it and why shouldn’t we?  Lots of people in my class are in the same position, and yet they get along all right.  Why can’t we do the same?  I’ll not be too particular.  Neither will you.  For the rest of our lives let each of us go his and her own way.  But that’s no reason why we should be strangers exactly.  Not on our wedding-day at all events.  You’re a damned pretty woman and I’m. . . .  Well, I’m not an ogre, I suppose.  We are man and wife, too.  So look here, we won’t expect too much affection from each other—­but let’s stop this fooling and be good friends for a little while anyway.  Come, now.”

Once more he took hold of me, as if to draw me back, kissing my hands as he did so, but his gross misinterpretation of my resistance and the immoral position he was putting me into were stifling me, and I cried: 

“No, I will not.  Don’t you see that I hate and loathe you?”

There could be no mistaking me this time.  The truth had fallen on my husband with a shock.  I think it was the last thing his pride had expected.  His face became shockingly distorted.  But after a moment, recovering himself with a cruel laugh that made my hot blood run cold, he said: 

“Nevertheless, you shall do as I wish.  You are my wife, and as such you belong to me.  The law allows me to compel you and I will.”

The words went shrieking through and through me.  He was coming towards me with outstretched arms, his teeth set, and his pupils fixed.  In the drunkenness of his rage he was laughing brutally.

But all my fear had left me.  I felt an almost murderous impulse.  I wanted to strike him on the face.

“If you attempt to touch me I will throw myself out of the window,” I said.

“No fear of that,” he said, catching me quickly in his arms.

“If you do not take your hands off me I’ll shriek the house down,” I cried.

That was enough.  He let me go and dropped back from me.  At the next moment I was breathing with a sense of freedom.  Without resistance on my husband’s part I entered the little bedroom to the left and locked the door behind me.