"If you were not beastly drunk, I'd have satisfaction for that!" gasped Hargrave, white and breathless as much from passion as from the immediate effects of the blow.
"Go to the devil!" responded his brother-in-law. "Now Milicent, tell me what you were crying for."
"I'll tell you some other time," murmured she, "when we are alone."
"Tell me now!" said he with another shake and a squeeze that made her draw in her breath and bite her lip to suppress a cry of pain.
"I'll tell you, Mr. Hattersley," said I. "She was crying from pure shame and humiliation for you; because she could not bear to see you conduct yourself so disgracefully."
"Confound you, Madam!" muttered he, with a stare of stupid amazement at my 'impudence,' "It was not that—was it Milicent?"
She was silent.
"Come, speak up child!"
"I can't tell now," sobbed she.
