" Ruyter’s mouth opened, but no word came. I noted that his lips were pallid. “With this man,” I went on, in the same slow, even voice, “with this man it is different. Mildred, this hero of yours—this Paladin of story-book seducers—is afraid. He is sick with fear. He would not dare meet my eyes, if he were not still more afraid to look away from me. He is half a head taller than I and thirty pounds heavier, and he is an athlete, while I am not. Yet he is more afraid of me at this moment than a clean man could be of anything on earth. The pitiful coward!” “You—you lie!” croaked Ruyter, but there was no conviction behind his denial. “He is afraid of me,” I went on, “because, to an animal of his species, I am that most terrifying creature extant—a husband. In me he sees the law, the punishment of the law, the ostracism of Society, the smear on his name that will last all his days. He sees more: he sees the one man in the world who can shoot him dead, at will, and whom no jury will punish for the deed. He is a wild beast for whom the ‘open season’ is any season I may dictate. I and I alone hold his worthless life in the hollow of my hand. I can kill him as I would kill a cat that has fits—and with no greater legal penalty. He knows it. And his courage has turned to water within him. "

― Albert Payson Terhune , An Albert Payson Terhune Reader