so uncharacteristic that it moved
her. He shut his eyes. It was as if he had said: 'All right! I'm dead
to the world!'

"You can have a room for the night," she said; "your things are still
here. Only Imogen is at home."

He leaned back against the bed-rail. "Well, it's in your hands," and his
own made a writhing movement. "I've been through it. You needn't hit
too hard--it isn't worth while. I've been frightened; I've been
frightened, Freddie."

That old pet name, disused for years and years, sent a shiver through
Winifred.

'What am I to do with him?' she thought. 'What in God's name am I to do
with him?'

"Got a cigarette?"

She gave him one from a little box she kept up there for when she
couldn't sleep at night, and lighted it. With that action the
matter-of-fact side of her nature came to life again.

"Go and have a hot bath. I'll put some clothes out for you in the
dressing-room. We can talk later."

He nodded, and fixed his eyes on her--they looked half-dead, or was it
that the folds in the lids had become heavier?

'He's not the same,' she thought. He would never be quite the same
again! But what would he be?

"All right!" he said, and went towards the door. He even moved
differently, like a man who has lost illusion and doubts whether it is
worth while to move at all.

When he was gone, and she heard the water in the bath running, she put
out a complete set of garments on the bed in his dressing-room, then went
downstairs and fetched up the biscuit box and whisky. Putting on her coat
again, and listening a moment at the bathroom door, she went down and
out. In the street she hesitated. Past seven o'clock! Would Soames be
at his Club or at Park Lane? She turned towards the latter. Back!

Soames had always feared it--she had sometimes hoped it.... Back! So
like him--clown that he was--with this: 'Here we are again!' to make
fools of them all--of the Law, of Soames, of herself!

Yet to have done with the Law, not to have that murky cloud hanging over
her and the children! What a relief! Ah! but how to accept his return?
That 'woman' had ravaged him, taken from him passion such as he had never
bestowed on herself, such as she had not thought him capable of. There
was the sting! That selfish, blatant 'clown' of hers, whom she herself
had never really stirred, had been swept and ungarnished by another
woman! Insulting! Too insulting! Not right, not decent to take him
ba