Monica could not have imagined such brutal ferocity in her husband's face, and she herself had a wild recklessness in her eyes, a scorn and abhorrence in all the lines of her countenance, which made Widdowson feel as if a stranger were before him.
'I shall answer no question whatever,' Monica replied.

'All I want is to leave your house, and never see you again.' He regretted what he had done.

The result of the first day's espionage being a piece of evidence so incomplete, he had hoped to command himself until more solid proof of his wife's guilt were forthcoming.
But jealousy was too strong for such prudence, and the sight of Monica as she uttered her falsehood made a mere madman of him.

Predisposed to believe a story of this kind, he could not reason as he might have done if fear of Barfoot had never entered his thoughts.

The whole course of dishonour seemed so clear; he traced it from Monica's earliest meetings with Barfoot at Chelsea.