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'Well! said Kurrell brutally. 'It seems to me that Mrs. Boulte had better be fond of her own husband first. 'Stop! said Mrs. Vansuythen. 'Hear me first. I don't care I don't want to know anything about you and Mrs. Boulte; but I want you to know that I hate you, that I think you are a cur, and that I'll never, never speak to you again. Oh, I don't dare to say what I think of you, you man!
Vansuythen, with no heart for explanations or impassioned protestations, was kneeling over Mrs. Boulte. 'Oh, you brute! she cried. 'Are all men like this? Help me to get her into my room and her face is cut against the table. Oh, will you be quiet, and help me to carry her? I hate you, and I hate Captain Kurrell. Lift her up carefully, and now go! Go away! Boulte carried his wife into Mrs.
Vansuythen turned scarlet and dropped the reins. She wished to be no party to such unholy explanations. 'I've nothing to do with it, she began coldly; but Mrs. Boulte's sobs overcame her, and she addressed herself to the man. 'I don't know what I am to say, Captain Kurrell. I don't know what I can call you.
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