"I told you that I came up here because of a woman--and a man," continued
Thornton. "Well, I did. The man and woman were husband and wife, and I--"
He interrupted himself with one of his chuckling laughs. There was
something in it that made me shudder.
"No use to tell you that I loved her," he went on. "I worshipped her. She
was my life. And I believe she loved me as much. I might have added that
there was a third thing that drove me up here--what remained of the rag
end of a man's honor."
"I begin to understand," I said, as he paused. "You came up here to get
away from the woman. But this woman--her husband--"
For the first time since I had known him I saw a flash of anger leap into
Thornton's face. He struck his hand against the rock.
"Her husband was a scoundrel, a brute, who came home from his club drunk,
a cheap money-spender, a man who wasn't fit to wipe the mud from her
little feet, much less call her wife! He ought to have been shot. I can
see it, now; and--well, I might as well tell you. I'm going back to her!"
"You are?" I cried. "Has she got a divorce? Is her husband still living?"
"No, she hasn't got a divorce, and her husband is still living; but for
all that, we've arranged it. Those were her letters I've been reading,
and she'll be at Prince Albert waiting for me on the 15th--three days
from now. We shall be a little late, and that's why I'm hustling so.
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