Clara felt the blood mount to her cheeks at his want of pride. “I feel a repugnance to the idea of seeing you here. Is not that enough?” “Oh, do not be unreasonable,” he replied, concealing his anger, but not his impatience; and with this he turned the knob. Up to this moment Clara had secretly reproached herself for bolting her door, not daring in her heart to really believe that he could be guilty of the baseness of forcing himself upon her. All fear of being unjust to him, now vanished like tissue in a furnace. She answered, with forced composure, “Go down into the library, and I will join you there. You cannot see me here, Dr. Delano.” He could not possibly mistake her meaning, and he went without a word. “She shall pay for these airs,” he said to himself as he retreated, determining to play the part of the impassioned lover, which he believed she would never be able to resist. He thought he knew her weakness; but his calculation was all wrong, since he failed to see that her weakness had been her strength of love; but now her strength was in the weakness of that love, and she was no longer the potter’s clay in his hands that she had once been. The moment she confronted him in the library he was conscious of her power, and felt that no acting could deceive her. For a moment she stood silently looking at him, and then she said, in a slow, measured tone, “I have had some hard thoughts of you, Albert, but I never believed you could be guilty of such baseness, as trying to force yourself upon me when I had told you you were not desired.” “Permit me to say that I have never had any hard thoughts of you, and could not believe you would ever apply such a term to me. It does not strike me as a crime to wish to see my wife in her room.” “I am not your wife, and you know it; nor are you my husband.” “The law would hold a different opinion; and, allow me to add, a somewhat less sentimental one.” “Was it ever our mutual understanding that we were husband and wife, simply because of the ceremony of marriage?” asked Clara, growing more calm as her excitement increased. “Our mutual understanding had not, nor has it now, any power to annul the fact.” “Then let it be annulled as soon as possible. I have heretofore been very indifferent whether you got a divorce or not; but, in Heaven’s name, wait no longer, since you take so low a view of what constitutes marriage. I have deserted you, you know,” she said, with a bitter smile, “and that is ground for a divorce.” “The complaint is already filed,” he answered, “but I think I shall stay the proceedings.” “Suppose you do me the honor to consult me in the premises.” “I beg your pardon, Madam Delano. Will you favor me with your opinion on this subject?” “You cannot irritate me by your mocking tone. I have learned that existence, and even happiness, is possible without your caresses.” “So it seems, madam; and if it will do your pride any good, I will add that I am very sorry for the fact.”