But he only smiled. The perfume from her hair, the warmth of her body, the intoxication from her person were working their due. He was only a man--and she was only a woman. He kissed her on the lips fiercely--once--twice--a score of times--straining her to him with an intensity that left her helpless. "You coward!--you coward!--you coward!" she kept repeating. And every time he kissed her more fiercely than the last. Then, suddenly as he had seized her, he loosed her and stepped back--so suddenly, indeed, she swayed and almost fell. "You beast! you miserable beast!" she breathed, wiping away his kisses. He laughed, a low mocking laugh. "Did you call Amherst a beast?" he asked. "You miserable beast!" she repeated. "Who has a better right?" he queried. "You miserable beast," she said again. "Who has a better right to kiss you than your husband? Your lover?" he sneered. "Go!" she cried, pointing to the door. "Go! and never speak to me again." "Why all these melodramatics?" he inquired. "What have I done that is wrong--how have I offended?" "I have asked you to leave the house," she answered. "If you go quietly at once well and good. If you do not"--laying her hand on the button in the wall behind her--"I shall ring for Tompkins and bid him summon the police." "Still melodramatic!" he laughed. She pressed the button. "You shall decide whether the butler shows you out or summons an officer," she replied. Tompkins appeared in the doorway and waited. She looked calmly at Lorraine, and Lorraine looked at her--then he held out his hand. "Good-bye!" he said. "Good-bye!" she answered, and turned away. He took a step toward her, and dropped his voice so that Tompkins could not hear. "And I'm not so sure _now_ that I want a divorce," he said--"and _you_ can't get one." Her only reply was the slightest shrug of the shoulders and an expressive motion of her hands--she did not even take the trouble to turn her head. And after a second's hesitation, Lorraine faced about and strode away. VIII THE SUMMONS A month went by and Lorraine made no move to obtain a divorce--neither did he appear to seek a reconciliation. At first Society was aghast with wonder, then it gradually accepted the course as one of Lorraine's eccentricities of character. At the beginning he had made no secret of his purpose to institute suit whenever personal service could be obtained on her--although he was of course aware that personal service was not necessary in such a case. He had a rather Quixotic idea of the matter, it seemed. Now when he was given the opportunity, and had openly expressed his intention to proceed forthwith, he suddenly veered off and became non-committal and non-communicative--even to his intimate friends.