ike a
sleep-walker, dead to all sensation, she must go through with it.

And she was not yet thirty. All of her father's family--and she was
physically the daughter of her father, not of her mother--lived to such
a great age. In all human probability there would be at least fifty
years of life left to her. Fifty years with all that made life worth
living behind one!

She supposed he would eventually get a divorce. She remembered to have
heard that such things were easy out here, not like it was in England.
And he was a man who would be sure to marry again, he would want a
family.

And it was some other woman who would be the mother of his children!

The wave of passion that swept her now, made up of bitter regret, of
longing and of jealousy, overwhelmed her as never before.

She had been pacing the room up and down, up and down, stopping now and
then to touch some little familiar object with a touch that was a
caress.

But at this last thought, she sank into a chair and buried her face in
her hands.

The storm of weeping which shook her had nearly spent itself, when she
heard steps coming toward the house, a step that her heart had known for
many a day. Drying her eyes quickly, she went to the window and made a
pretense of looking out that he might not see her tear-stained face. She
made a last call on her pride and strength to carry her through the
coming interview. He should never know what leaving cost her; that she
promised herself.

CHAPTER XVIII

"Ed drove over with Reg and Emma; I guess he won't be very long. There
was something he wanted to say to old man Sharp that he'd forgot about."

"Then you didn't get your talk with him?"

She was glad of that. It was better to have their own talk first. But as
it had been _he_ who had broached the subject of her leaving, it was he
who must reopen it.

"No, but I guess anything I've got to say to him will keep till he gets
back. Ed's thinking of buying a clearing-machine that's for sale over
Prentice way."

"Yes, he told me."

Without turning her head, she could tell that he was looking around for
the matches. He never could remember that they were kept in a jar over
on the shelf back of the stove. He was going to smoke his pipe, of
course. When men were nervous about anything they always flew to
tobacco. Women were denied that poor consolation. But she, too, felt the
necessity of having something to occupy her hands. She went back to the
table,