The rejection caught him like a slap in the face. Our ideal had fallen. Then as she drew nearer paint showed upon her face, and a harsh purpose behind the quiet expression of her open countenance, and a sort of unreality in her splendor betrayed itself for which Ann Veronica could not recall the right word—a word, half understood, that lurked and hid in her mind, the word “meretricious. And, thrusting a piece of iron into his mouth, he forced him out of the room. You are my wife now and you belong to me. But I give you this warning, and let it sink in.
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