I doubt if she heard, to distinguish, a syllable he spoke, her every thought centered on my renunciation.
"But--but I am his wife," she panted indignantly.

"Philip Henley's wife.

I--I showed you our certificate." "A fake, a forgery," asserted the other roughly, before I could find voice.

"You had it framed up all right, if you had never run across me.

Show me the paper." "I cannot, for it is not here.