"It's an infernal shame," said Jeff. He was glad to tell her he hated
the privation she had to bear of having cast him off and yet facing her
broken life without him. "I know what kind of time you have as well as
you could tell me. You've got Madame Beattie quartered on you. There's
grandmother upstairs. No comfort in her. No companionship. I've often
thought you don't go out as much as you might for fear of meeting me.
You needn't feel that. If I see it's going to happen I can save you
that, at least."

Esther stood looking up at him, her lips parted, as if she drank what he
had to say through them, and drank it thirstily.

"How good you are!" she said. "O Jeff, how good! When I've--" There she
paused, still watching him. But Esther had the woman's instinctive trick
of being able to watch accurately while she did it passionately.

Jeff flushed to his hair, but her cleverness did not lead her to the
springs of his emotion. He was ashamed, not of her, but of himself.

"You're off," he said, "all wrong. I do want to save you from this
horrible mix-up I've made for you. But I'm not good, Esther. I'm not the
faithful chap it makes me seem. I'm different. You wouldn't know me. I
don't believe we ever knew each other very well."

Something like terror came into her beautiful eyes. Was he, that inner
terror asked her, trying to explain that she had lost him? Although she
might not want him, she had always thought he would be there.

"You mean--" she began, and strove to keep a grip on herself and decide
temperately whether this would be best to say. But some galled feeling
got the better of her. The smart was too much. Hurt vanity made her
wince and cry out with the passion of a normal jealousy. "You mean," she
continued, "you are in love with another woman."

It was a hit. He had deserved it, he knew, and he straightened under it.
Let him not, his alarmed senses told him, even think of Lydia, lest
these cruelly clever eyes see Lydia in his, Lydia in his hurried breath,
even if he could keep Lydia from his tongue.

"Esther," he said, "don't say such a thing. Don't think it. What right
have I to look at another woman while you are alive? How could I insult
a woman--" He stopped, his own honest heart knocking against his words.
He had dared. He had swept his house of life and let Lydia in.

"Yes," said Esther thoughtfully, and, it seemed, hurt to the soul, "you
love somebody else. O Jeff, I didn't think--" She lifted wi