"Of late he has. Since I had Cousin Billy Enderby go to him about the
dancer. I won't say he's run absolutely straight since. Poor Del! He
can't, I suppose. But, at least, he's respected the bargain to the
extent of being prudent. I shall respect mine to the same extent."

"Io," he burst out passionately, "there's only one thing in the world I
really want; for you to be free of him absolutely."

She shook her head. "Oh, Ban' Can't you be content--with me? I've told
you I am free of him. I'm not really his wife."

"No; you're mine," he declared with jealous intensity.

"Yes; I'm yours." Her voice trembled, thrilled. "You don't know yet how
wholly I'm yours. Oh, it isn't _that_ alone, Ban. But in spirit and
thought. In the world of shadowed and lovely things that we made for
ourselves long ago."

"But to have to endure this atmosphere of secrecy, of stealth, of danger
to you," he fretted. "You could get your divorce."

"No; I can't. You don't understand."

"Perhaps I do understand," he said gently.

"About Del?" She drew a quick breath. "How could you?"

"Wholly through an accident. A medical man, a slimy little reptile,
surprised his secret and inadvertently passed it on."

She leaned forward to him from her corner of the settee, all courage and
truth. "I'm glad that you know, though I couldn't tell you, myself.
You'll see now that I couldn't leave him to face it alone."

"No. You couldn't. If you did, it wouldn't be Io."

"Ah, and I love you for that, too," she whispered, her voice and eyes
one caress to him. "I wonder how I ever made myself believe that I could
get over loving you! Now, I've got to pay for my mistake. Ban, do you
remember the 'Babbling Babson'? The imbecile who saw me from the train
that day?"

"I remember every smallest thing in any way connected with you."

"I love to hear you say that. It makes up for the bad times, in between.
The Babbler has turned up. He's been living abroad for a few years. I
saw him at a tea last week."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yes. He tried to be coy and facetious. I snubbed him soundly. Perhaps
it wasn't wise."

"Why shouldn't it be?"

"Well he used to have the reputation of writing on the sly for The
Searchlight."

"That sewer-sheet! You don't think he'd dare do anything of the sort
about us? Why, what would he have to go on?"

"What does The Searchlight have to go on in most of its lies, and hints,
and innuendoes?"

"But, Io, even if it did pub