For an instant they gazed at each other in an anger more violent in its
manifestation than their love had been. An observer, noticing them for
the first time, would have concluded that they had hated each other for
years, not that they had been lovers only a few minutes before. Nature,
having wearied of her play, was destroying her playthings.
"I would marry no man on earth who wouldn't believe me in spite of
that--and everything else," she said.
"Do you expect a man to believe you in spite of his eyes?"
"Eyes, ears--everything! Do you think I'd have turned on you like that
before I had heard you?"
A sob, not of pity, but of rage, burst from her lips, and the sound
sobered him more completely than her accusations had done. Her temper he
could withstand, but that little childish sob, bitten back almost before
it escaped, brought him again on his knees to her.
"I can't understand--oh, Molly, don't you see I am in torment?" he
cried.
But the veil of softness was gone now, and the cruelty that is bound up
in some inexplicable way in all violent emotion--even in the emotion of
love--showed itself on the surface.
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