This turned the tables. Now Jerome's glance was riveted upon those polished boards, and she looked at him. She had not had so good a look at him in a long time, and her two eyes had never been eyes enough to take in as much of him as her heart craved. "At least," said Jerome, regaining his composure and holding up his head, "this much may be said for me. My contract with her was made in good faith. I liked her well enough--I loved no one else--it was all right until I met you. My soul is as a pure white dove in this matter, compared to yours! And these bonds of mine, they hang but by a single thread. Our future would have been assured but for your broken faith." "Mine? It is all _your_ fault, not mine! Had you trusted me, as a man ought to trust the woman he loves, all might have been well with us." "All would have been well with us had you trusted _me_, as a woman should trust the man she loves. Did I not ask you so to trust me? Great God! Mellville, could I conceive that you would stake your future happiness--our future happiness, on the paltry issues of a foot-race? That whole day my mind was full of projects for bringing about a happy termination to all our troubles. I could have done it! I would have done it! But now!" Lashed into fury by a vivid conception of his own wrongs, brought about, as he chose to consider, through her treachery alone, Jerome turned upon her angrily: "Let me tell you one thing! You shall not marry Rube Rutland!" "Shall I not?" Mell laughed--not one of her musical laughs. Now that she was fairly in for it, she rather enjoyed this fencing match with Jerome. Hitherto, she had always by stress of circumstances, acted upon the defensive with him; now she could assert her mastery. "Shall I not? How will you prevent it?" "I will open his eyes. I will tell him you do not care a rap for him." "You will tell him that? Very well. I will _swear_ to him that I do. Whom will he believe? _Not you!_" Her words, her manner, were exasperating, and they were intended to be exasperating. That cool and systematic self-control which characterized Jerome, had more than aroused a feeling of rebellious protest in the girl's impetuous nature. If she could break him up a little-- "_I say you shall not marry him!_" The words were not loudly spoken, but they were the utterances of a man much in earnest. "Rather than see you his wife I would gladly see you dead!" "Oh, no doubt! But let me tell you, sir, I do not propose to die to please you! I propose to please myself by becoming the wife of Rube Rutland!" This was too much, even for Jerome. "You heartless, cruel, wicked woman!"