“Yes.  Yes, of course,” says poor Margaret, who doesn’t know on earth what she is saying.

Her eyes are riveted on that awful screen, and now she is shaken to the very core by the fact that it is evidently undergoing a second earthquake!  What is to be done?  How long will this last?  And when the end comes, will even one of them be left alive to tell the tale?

“Look here!” says Rylton.  “She won’t see me, it appears; she declines to acknowledge the tie that binds us.  She has plainly decided on putting me outside her life altogether.  But she can’t do that, you know.  And”—­with some vehemence—­“what I wish to say is this, that if I was in fault when I married her, fancying myself in love with another woman——­”

“Maurice, I entreat,” says Margaret, rising, “I desire you to——­”

“No; you must listen.  I will not be condemned unheard.  She can’t have it all her own way.  If I was in fault, so was she.  Is it right for a woman to marry a man without one spark of love for him, with—­she never concealed it—­an almost open dislike to him?”

“Dislike?  Maurice——­”

“Well, is she not proving it now?  My coming seems to be the signal for her hiding herself away in her own room.  ‘In retirement’ you said she was, with a bad headache.  Do you think”—­furiously—­“I can’t see through her headaches?  Now listen, Margaret; the case stands thus:  I married her for her money, and she married me for my title.  We both accepted the risk, and——­”

Margaret throws up her hands.  Her face grows livid, her eyes are fastened on the screen, and at this moment it goes over with a loud crash.

“It is not true!  It is a lie!” says Tita, advancing into the middle of the room, her lips apart, her eyes blazing.

CHAPTER XXV.

HOW TITA WAGES WAR WITH MARGARET AND MAURICE; AND HOW MARGARET SUFFERS IGNOMINIOUS TREATMENT ON BOTH HANDS; AND HOW MAURICE AT THE LAST GAINS ONE SMALL VICTORY.

There is a moment’s awful silence, and then Tita sweeps straight up to Rylton, who is gazing at her as if he never saw her before.  As for Margaret, she feels as if she is going to faint.

“I—­I!” says Tita; “to accuse me of marrying you for your title!  I never thought about your title.  I don’t care a fig for your title.  My greatest grief now is that people call me Lady Rylton.”

“I beg of you, Tita——­” begins Margaret, trembling; she lays her hand on the girl’s arm, but Tita shakes her off.

“Don’t speak to me.  Don’t touch me.  You are as bad as he is.  You took his part all through.  You said you felt for him!  When he was saying all sorts of dreadful things about me.  You said, ’Yes, yes, of course.’  I heard you; I was listening.  I heard every word.”

“May I ask,” says Rylton, “if you did not marry me for my title, what did you marry me for?  Not,” with a sneer, “for love, certainly.”