He started to speak again, but she rushed on frantically, heading him off. “If you will only do it! If you will only—only believe me! It wasn’t my fault—I couldn’t help it—it will be all right—it is nothing—it is no harm. Oh, Jurgis—please, please!”

She had hold of him, and was trying to raise herself to look at him; he could feel the palsied shaking of her hands and the heaving of the bosom she pressed against him. She managed to catch one of his hands and gripped it convulsively, drawing it to her face, and bathing it in her tears. “Oh, believe me, believe me!” she wailed again; and he shouted in fury, “I will not!”

But still she clung to him, wailing aloud in her despair: “Oh, Jurgis, think what you are doing! It will ruin us—it will ruin us! Oh, no, you must not do it! No, don’t, don’t do it. You must not do it! It will drive me mad—it will kill me—no, no, Jurgis, I am crazy—it is nothing. You do not really need to know. We can be happy—we can love each other just the same. Oh, please, please, believe me!”

Her words fairly drove him wild. He tore his hands loose, and flung her off. “Answer me,” he cried. “God damn it, I say—answer me!”

She sank down upon the floor, beginning to cry again. It was like listening to the moan of a damned soul, and Jurgis could not stand it. He smote his fist upon the table by his side, and shouted again at her, “Answer me!”

She began to scream aloud, her voice like the voice of some wild beast: “Ah! Ah! I can’t! I can’t do it!”

“Why can’t you do it?” he shouted.

“I don’t know how!”

He sprang and caught her by the arm, lifting her up, and glaring into her face. “Tell me where you were last night!” he panted. “Quick, out with it!”

Then she began to whisper, one word at a time: “I—was in—a house—downtown—”

“What house? What do you mean?”

She tried to hide her eyes away, but he held her. “Miss Henderson’s house,” she gasped. He did not understand at first. “Miss Henderson’s house,” he echoed. And then suddenly, as in an explosion, the horrible truth burst over him, and he reeled and staggered back with a scream. He caught himself against the wall, and put his hand to his forehead, staring about him, and whispering, “Jesus! Jesus!”

An instant later he leaped at her, as she lay groveling at his feet. He seized her by the throat. “Tell me!” he gasped, hoarsely. Quick! Who took you to that place?”

She tried to get away, making him furious; he thought it was fear, of the pain of his clutch—he did not understand that it was the agony of her shame. Still she answered him, “Connor.”