"So you’ve sunk to that! You can dare to sit there and say that openly to me. I’m to marry him--I’m to drag myself through the dirt of that man’s life, so that you can have him always at your elbow!!" Margaret stared, and in her turn grew pale. "What are you saying or thinking?" she cried. "Are you out of your mind?" "If I am, I’ve had enough to make me. But I’m sane enough--for my brother’s sake. I’ve kept sane all these cruel, cursed months, while you’ve gone your way, and forgotten yourself, and disgraced his name. Hear me, I say! Don’t you shout, for I can shout louder than you. What I tell be God’s truth; and if you don’t confess it, I’ll do it for you. D’you think I don’t know what men are? Nine in ten be of the same beastly pattern; and this man’s the worst of all, for he’s a liar and a thief, and he came to me with his false tales, but his mind was always running on you; and he came to David and pretended to be his friend and--and--" She caught her breath and Margaret spoke swiftly. "What do you accuse me of?" "I accuse you of being unfaithful and untrue to my brother; and right well you know it is so. I’ve watched--I know--and I’m not the only one. My sister Dorcas--clever enough in evil she be--she knows it too. And belike a many others among that knave’s friends, for he’s the sort to rob a woman of her all, and then laugh to men about it. Maybe all the world knows it but David’s self. I say you’ve sinned against my brother, and I say he must know it--now--now--afore he begins at Tavistock. And, please God, he’ll put you away from him, and choose rather to live his life maimed alone, than with a foul wretch like you under his roof." "These are hideous lies--you’re dreaming--you’re mad to say such things. You--you to come to an honest wife with this filthy story! ’Tis you shall be cast out--’tis you.--Oh, my God! to think that I should hear such words uttered against me by another woman!" Madge’s brief flash of fight died even as she spoke. She was not fashioned to carry the battle with a high hand. She began to think of her husband. "You shall say this to David and see where you find yourself," she continued. "Is not a man’s wife nearer to him than a sister? Will he believe you rather than me? Will he believe Dorcas rather than Bartley Crocker himself? That you--you, Rhoda, of all women, could sting me so! That you--you we thought so pure and clean as newly-fallen snow--could invent such a thing! That you, who know me so well and my love and worship of David.... Oh, Rhoda, I’m sorry for you!"