He locked her into her bedroom.
When he came back some hours after, he found her sitting, very much altered in look and bearing, by the bedside, with a bundle on her lap.
She rose, and faced him quietly, and spoke with a strange stillness in her voice, a strange repose in her eyes, a strange composure in her manner.
"No man has ever struck me twice," she said, "and my husband shall have no second opportunity.

Set the door open and let me go.

From this day forth we see each other no more." Before he could answer she passed him and left the room.

He saw her walk away up the street.
Would she return?
All that night he watched and waited, but no footstep came near the house.

The next night, overpowered by fatigue, he lay down in bed in his clothes, with the door locked, the key on the table, and the candle burning.