The Honey is Bitter

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"Keep your love. Did I ever ask for it?" Paul's voice rang out. His face was a taut sculpture, chiseled out of stone-as she felt certain his heart was. "No," Domini threw at him, "but you're not quite so inhuman as to enjoy for very long the companionship of a wife who hates you!" She couldn't weep. Tears had set like ice in her and the sweetness of today had turned to bitterness. The rings on her hands felt heavy-like manacles, she told herself. Shackles that bound her to a man who had forced her into a loveless disaster of a marriage.