longer.
To-night she asks to sleep in your empty house--a house which you do not
care about, and which you have not occupied for over a year. May she?
Will you give my sister leave? Will you forgive her as you hope to be
forgiven, and as you have actually been forgiven? Forgive her for one
night only. That will be enough."

"As I have actually been forgiven--?"

"Never mind for the moment what I mean by that," said Margaret. "Answer
my question."

Perhaps some hint of her meaning did dawn on him. If so, he blotted
it out. Straight from his fortress he answered: "I seem rather
unaccommodating, but I have some experience of life, and know how one
thing leads to another. I am afraid that your sister had better sleep
at the hotel. I have my children and the memory of my dear wife to
consider. I am sorry, but see that she leaves my house at once."

"You have mentioned Mrs. Wilcox."

"I beg your pardon?"

"A rare occurrence. In reply, may I mention Mrs. Bast?"

"You have not been yourself all day," said Henry, and rose from his seat
with face unmoved. Margaret rushed at him and seized both his hands. She
was transfigured.

"Not any more of this!" she cried. "You shall see the connection if it
kills you, Henry! You have had a mistress--I forgave you. My sister
has a lover--you drive her from the house. Do you see the connection?
Stupid, hypocritical, cruel--oh, contemptible!--a man who insults his
wife when she's alive and cants with her memory when she's dead. A man
who ruins a woman for his pleasure, and casts her off to ruin other men.
And gives bad financial advice, and then says he is not responsible.
These men are you. You can't recognise them, because you cannot connect.
I've had enough of your unneeded kindness. I've spoilt you long enough.
All your life you have been spoiled. Mrs. Wilcox spoiled you. No one has
ever told what you are--muddled, criminally muddled. Men like you use
repentance as a blind, so don't repent. Only say to yourself, 'What
Helen has done, I've done.'"

"The two cases are different," Henry stammered. His real retort was
not quite ready. His brain was still in a whirl, and he wanted a little
longer.

"In what way different? You have betrayed Mrs. Wilcox, Helen only
herself. You remain in society, Helen can't. You have had only pleasure,
she may die. You have the insolence to talk to me of differences,
Henry?"

Oh, the uselessness of it! Henry's retort came.

"I perceive you are a