a hostile thought toward you. I should be
mighty sorry if you had for me. But, Esther, whatever we feel for each
other, will the thing stand the test of the plain truth? If it's going
to have any working basis, it's got to. Now, do you love me? No, you
don't. We both know we've changed beyond--" he paused for a merciful
simile--"beyond recognition. Now because we promised to live together
until death parted us, are we going to? Was that a righteous promise in
view of what might happen? The thing, you see, has happened. If we had
children it might be righteous to hang together, for their sakes. Is it
righteous now? I don't believe it."

Esther lifted her clasped hands and struck them down upon her knee. The
rose of her cheek had paled, and all expression save a protesting
incredulity had frozen out of her face.

"I have never," she said, "been so insulted in my life."

"That's it," said Jeff. "I tried to tell the truth and you can't stand
it. You tell it to me now, and I'll see if I can stand your side of it."

She was out of her chair and on her feet.

"You must go," she said. "You must go at once."

"I'm sorry," said Jeff. He was looking at her with what Miss Annabel
called his beautiful smile. "You can't possibly believe I want things to
be right for you. But it's true. I mean to make them righter than they
are, too. But I don't believe we can shackle ourselves together. I don't
believe that's right."

He went away, leaving her trembling. There was nothing for it but to go.
On the sidewalk not far from her door he met Reardon with a casual nod,
and Reardon blazed out at him, "Damn you!" At least that was what Jeff
for the instant thought he said and turned to look at him. But Reardon
was striding on and the back of his excellent great-coat looked so
handsomely conventional that Jeff concluded he had been mistaken. He
went on trying to sift his distastes and revulsions from what he wanted
to do for Esther. Something must be done. Esther must no more be bound
than he.

Reardon did not knock at her door. He opened it and went in and Esther
even passionately received him. They greeted each other like
acknowledged lovers, and he stood holding her to him while she sobbed
bitterly against his arm.

"What business had he?" he kept repeating. "What business had he?"

"I can't talk about it," said Esther. "But I can never go through it
again. You must take me away."

"I'm going myself," said Reardon. "I'm booked fo