They make love to her.

Confound her!" Dacres's voice grew more and more agitated and excited as he spoke, and at length his tirade against his wife ended in something that was almost a roar.
Hawbury said nothing, but listened, with his face full of sympathy.

At last his pent-up feeling found expression in his favorite exclamation, "By Jove!" "Wouldn't I be justified in wringing her neck ?" asked Dacres, after a pause.

"And what's worse," he continued, without waiting for an answer to his question--"what's worse, her presence here in this unexpected way has given me, _me_, mind you, a sense of guilt, while she is, of course, immaculate.

_I_, mind you--_I_, the injured husband, with the scar on my head from a wound made by _her_ hand, and all the ghosts of my ancestors howling curses over me at night for my desolated and ruined home--_I_ am to be conscience-stricken in her presence, as if I were a felon, while _she_, the really guilty one--the blight and bitter destruction of my life--_she_ is to appear before me now as injured, and must make her appearance here, standing by the side of that sweet child-angel, and warning me away.