is instinct.

"I must."

"You're going to do something. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to leave you to change into those things. I'm going to look
for a cab, and I'm going to take you back to wherever you came from."

"You don't know where I came from. You don't know why I've come."

There was the throb of all disaster in her voice. His instinct heard it.
But his intelligence refused to hear. It went on reasoning with her who
was unreasonable.

"I don't know," it said, "why you want to stick here. It won't do either
of us any good."

"Has it began?" she said. "Can't anything stop it?"

"Yes. You can stop it if you stay here all night. If you want it to go
right you must keep away. It's madness your coming here at this time of
night. I can't think why you--I should have thought you'd have known--"

"Oh, Ranny, don't be hard on me."

"I'm not hard on you. You're hard on yourself. You want a divorce and I
want it. Don't you know we sha'n't get it--if--"

"But I _don't_ want it--I don't indeed."

"What's that?"

"I don't want it. I didn't know you were divorcing me. I never thought
you'd go and do it after all these years."

"Rot! You knew I was going to do it the minute I had the money."

"You don't understand. I've come to ask you if you'll forgive me--and
take me back."

"I forgave you long ago. But I can't take you back. You know _that_ well
enough."

She made as if she had not heard him.

"I'll be good, Ranny. I _want_ to be good."

He also made as if he had not heard.

"Why do you want me to take you back?"

"That's why. So as I can be good. Father's turned me out, Ranny."

"Your father?"

"I went to him first. I didn't think I'd any right to come to you--after
I'd served you like I did."

"Oh, never mind how you served me. What's Mercier been doing?"

"He's got married."

"Just like him. I thought he was going to marry _you_?"

"He wouldn't wait for me. He couldn't. He thought you were never going
to get your divorce. He _had_ to settle down so as to get on in his
business. He wanted a Frenchwoman who could help him, and he daren't so
much as look at me--after, for fear she'd divorce him."

"I told you he was a swine."

"He wasn't. It wasn't _his_ fault. He'd have married me two years ago if
you could have divorced me then."

Her mouth was loose to the passage of her sigh, as if for a moment she
felt a sensuous pleasure in her own self-pity. She did not see how his
mout