He spoke to her of the
happiness of their life. He was not angry with her. He did
not reproach her.
"Please let me go quietly, Dirk," she said at last. "Don't
you understand that I love Strickland? Where he goes I shall go."
"But you must know that he'll never make you happy. For your
own sake don't go. You don't know what you've got to look
forward to."
"It's your fault. You insisted on his coming here."
He turned to Strickland.
"Have mercy on her," he implored him. "You can't let her do
anything so mad."
"She can do as she chooses," said Strickland. "She's not
forced to come."
"My choice is made," she said, in a dull voice.
Strickland's injurious calm robbed Stroeve of the rest of his
self-control. Blind rage seized him, and without knowing what
he was doing he flung himself on Strickland. Strickland was
taken by surprise and he staggered, but he was very strong,
even after his illness, and in a moment, he did not exactly
know how, Stroeve found himself on the floor.
"You funny little man," said Strickland.
Stroeve picked himself up. He noticed that his wife had
remained perfectly still, and to be made ridiculous before her
increased his humiliation.
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