dear,
vanishing dream.

"Take one yourself, Ellen," he directed. "Keep the other one carefully
for Alfred."

She snatched them from his hand and before he could stop her she had
thrown them out of the open window into the street. He was, for an
instant, stricken dumb.

"And you," she cried fiercely, "you can follow your--beans, as soon as
you choose!"

He looked at her and realized how completely he had failed. She was
indeed stirred to the very depths of her nature, but the emotion which
possessed her was one of passionate and jealous anger.

"Not good enough for you as we are, eh?" she cried. "You don't like our
clothes or our manners! You've got to be a fine gentleman in five
minutes, haven't you? We were good enough for you when thirty shillings
a week didn't seem enough to keep us out of debt, and I stitched my
fingers to the bone with odd bits of dressmaking. Good enough for you
then, my man, when I cooked your dinner, washed your clothes, kept your
house clean and bore your son, working to the last moment till my head
swam and my knees tottered. Truth! Truth, indeed! What is there but
truth in my life, I'd like to know? Have I ever told you a lie? Have I
ever looked at another man, or let one touch my fingers, since the day
when you put that ring on? And now--take it--and get out!"

She wrenched her wedding ring from her finger and threw it upon the
ground between them. Her bosom was heaving; her cheeks were red and her
eyes glittering. Several wisps of her hair had been unable to stand the
excitement and were hanging down. The mauve bow had worked its way on
to one side--very nearly under her ear. There was no deceit nor any
pretence about her. She was the daughter of a washerwoman and a
greengrocer, and heredity had triumphantly asserted itself. Yet as he
backed towards the door before her fierce onslaught, Burton, for the
first time since this new thing had come, positively admired her.

"Ellen," he protested, "you are behaving foolishly. I wanted you and
the boy to understand. I wanted you to share the things which I had
found. It was the only way we could be happy together."

"Alfred and I will look after ourselves and our own happiness," she
declared, with a little gulp.

"Other women have lost their husbands. I can bear it. Why don't you
go? Don't you know the way out?"

Burton offered his hand. She frankly scoffed at him.

"I don't understand all that rigmarole about truth," she concluded,