her, too much startled now to care whether or not she
saw the tell-tale tears.

"How do you mean?"

"That last night only confirmed what I have been suspecting and
dreading." This time, there came the scornful note he had so feared.

He dropped his eyes again, and accepted the condemnation in silence. If
she knew the whole truth, there was no need of arguing with her over the
details. The spoon snapped in two in his hands. He rose and tossed the
fragments into the fire.

"Where are you going?" Beatrix asked.

"Straight to the devil." His accent was hard, but perfectly quiet, the
accent of a desperate man, not of a reckless boy.

Up to the last moment, she had expected that he would seek to justify
himself, would ask her to explain her decision and to modify it. This
grim, silent acceptance of his fate terrified her. It seemed to throw
upon her shoulders all the responsibility of an action which in itself
was right, yet possibly burdened with consequences dangerous to another.
For herself, for the killing of her own great love, Beatrix never
wavered. It was her own affair and concerned herself alone. But she knew
that Lorimer loved her, and all at once she realized that her sudden
rejection of his love was bound to bring forth bitter fruit. During the
time it took him to cross the floor, she was swiftly weighing her duty
to herself against her duty to her neighbor. She was bound to send him
away; but was she equally bound to send him away like a beaten dog,
without a word of explanation or of pity?

"Sidney?"

He had reached the door; but, at her call, he hesitated and looked
back.

"You understand why I am doing this?"

"Yes," he said bitterly; "I understand only too well."

"And you think I am justified?"

He faced about squarely.

"Good God, Beatrix, when you have stabbed a man to death, don't grind
the knife round and round, and ask him if he feels it! Let him make as
plucky an exit as he can."

His words broke the strain she had put upon herself.

"I didn't mean--I didn't suppose--" she faltered. Then she dropped into
a chair and covered her face with her hands.

Lorimer turned to the door again, halted irresolutely, then went back to
her side.

"I can't go away and leave you like this, dear girl," he said, as he
bent over her. "It isn't going to be easy for either of us; it is bound
to leave a terrible scar on our lives. But, if it is the only thing you
can do: at least, can't we say a decen