The horses stood ready saddled in the barn. Effie was clad in her
riding suit. As yet the moon had not risen to reduce the starlit
magnificence of the velvet summer night sky. Nor was there any sound
to warn them that the hours of suspense were nearly over.
Finally, Effie could endure the silence no longer. Her dark eyes were
intently gazing down upon the bowed figure of the man. They were hard
with every bitter woman's emotion. She was full of a fierce, hot
resentment against the man who could so obstinately resist the spirit
of her longing.
"Bob," she cried at last, all restraint completely giving way, "do you
know what I could do just now more willingly than anything else in the
world? I could thrust out my foot and spurn you with it as you might
any surly cur which barred your way. I tell you I'm hot with every
feeling of contempt for your crazy attitude. You dare to set yourself
and your moral scruples between my welfare and the miserable life
you've condemned me to. Your moral scruples. Were there ever such
things? Morals? Ju Penrose's saloon day and night--for you.
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