There was a maniac glare in the eyes of the man as he thrust his face still closer.
"And what'll you do, eh?" he shouted violently. "What'll _you_ do?"
She turned her face aside, in disgust of his reeking breath.
"You betcha life you'll leave me. I knew _that_ before you come into this room!"
"The hell you are!" In a gust of uncontrollable frenzy, Quard struck her sharply over the mouth. "You go--d'you hear?--you damn'----"
In blind fury Joan flung herself upon him, sobbing, biting, scratching, kicking. He reeled back before that unexpected assault, then, sobered a trifle by its viciousness, caught her wrists, held her helpless for an instant, and threw her violently from him. She fell to her knees, lurched over on her side....
[Illustration: The door slammed. He was gone.]
She knew the man too well not to know he would make instantly for the nearest bar; the only question was what guise intoxication would assume in him, this time. It was possible that he would drink himself raving mad and return fit for murder.
She must make her escape with all possible expedition....
Instantly Joan sat up, dried her eyes, convulsively swallowed her sobs, and felt of her bruised mouth.
Before her on the carpet the diamond ring winked sardonically in the sunset light.
She pondered savagely the wide and deep damnation it had wrought in her life.
It seemed impossible that only a few minutes had elapsed since she had entered this room, an affectionate, patient, and not unhappy wife. Now she sifted her heart and found in it not one grain of the love it had once held for Quard. This alone would have rendered irrevocable her decision to leave him.
With all her heart she hoped that the sketch would go to the devil without her....
Rising, she went to the mirror, to stare incredulously at the face it presented for her inspection, a cruel caricature, lined, distorted, blowsy, stained with tears. At this vision, hysteria threatened again.
With a great effort she fought it down, and controlled and smoothed out the muscles of her face. Now she was more recognizable. Even her mouth was not seriously disfigured; he had struck with the flat of his hand only; her lips were sore and slightly but not markedly swollen. A veil would disguise them completely.