e owed
me, and they're not bad. They're lifted out of the life. That's why I
bought them. Also because I liked to think I got something out of
Blantyre; and that he would wish I hadn't. He could paint a bit--don't
you think so?"

"He could paint a bit--always," she replied.

A silence followed. Her back was turned to him, her face was towards
the pictures.

Presently he spoke, with a little deferential anxiety in the tone. "Are
you interested in Blantyre?" he asked, cautiously. Getting up, he came
over to her.

"He has been arrested--as I said--with the others."

"No, you did not say so. So they let Blantyre into the game, did they?"
he asked almost musingly; then, as if recalling what she had said, he
added: "Do you mind telling me exactly what is your interest in
Blantyre?"

She looked at him straight in the eyes. For a face naturally so full of
humour, hers was strangely dark with stormy feeling now.

"Yes, I will tell you as much as I can--enough for you to understand,"
she answered.

He drew up a chair to the fire, and she sat down. He nodded at her
encouragingly. Presently she spoke.

"Well, at twenty-one I was studying hard, and he was painting--"

"Blantyre?"

She inclined her head. "He was full of dreams--beautiful, I thought
them; and he was ambitious. Also he could talk quite marvellously."

"Yes, Blantyre could talk--once," Byng intervened, gently.

"We were married secretly."

Byng made a gesture of amazement, and his face became shocked and
grave. "Married! Married! You were married to Blantyre?"

"At a registry office in Chelsea. One month, only one month it was, and
then he went away to Madeira to paint--'a big commission,' he said; and
he would send for me as soon as he could get money in hand--certainly
in a couple of months. He had taken most of my half-year's income--I
had been left four hundred a year by my mother."

Byng muttered a malediction under his breath and leaned towards her
sympathetically.

With an effort she continued. "From Madeira he wrote to tell me he was
going on to South Africa, and would not be home for a year. From South
Africa he wrote saying he was not coming back; that I could divorce him
if I liked. The proof, he said, would be easy; or I needn't divorce him
unless I liked, since no one knew we were married."

For an instant there was absolute silence, and she sat with her fingers
pressed tight to her eyes. At last she went on, her face turned away
fr