"There's no mistake," he said. There was authority in his
statement.
"There is, I tell you!" Dick cried, horrified by this conspiracy
of defamation. He turned his tortured face to his bride of a
day.
"Mary," he said huskily, "there is a mistake."
Something in her face appalled him. He was voiceless for a few
terrible instants. Then he spoke again, more beseechingly.
"Say there's a mistake."
Mary preserved her poise. Yes--she must not forget! This was the
hour of her triumph. What mattered it that the honey of it was
as ashes in her mouth? She spoke with a simplicity that admitted
no denial.
"It's all quite true."
The man who had so loved her, so trusted her, was overwhelmed by
the revelation. He stood trembling for a moment, tottered,
almost it seemed would have fallen, but presently steadied
himself and sank supinely into a chair, where he sat in impotent
suffering.
The father looked at Mary with a reproach that was pathetic.
"See," he said, and his heavy voice was for once thin with
passion," see what you've done to my boy!"
Mary had held her eyes on Dick.
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