his head with the contents of the water jug, the hot fit was
gone. She felt cold, too aloof, too far away from him to hate him, too
petrified to reproach him.

Fulton took no notice of the incident. He was still young and vigorous
enough to shake off within a few hours the effects of the drink. Besides
he seldom mentioned things that affected their relations; in the keep of
his heart he hid the resentment of a culprit against the one who has
caught him in the act. He confined his conversation to daily happenings;
in moments of expansion he talked of the future. They did not, however,
draw nearer one another; thus the evolution of their marriage tended
inevitably to draw them apart. Victoria was no longer angry, but she was
frightened because she had been frightened and she hated the source of
her fear. Fulton, thick skinned as he was, felt their estrangement
keenly. He grew to hate his wife; it almost made him wish to hurt her
again. So he absented himself more often, drank more, then died. His
wife was free. So this was freedom. Freedom, a word to conjure with,
thought Victoria, when one is enslaved and meaning very little when one
is free. She was able to do what she liked and wished to do nothing. Of
course things would smooth themselves out: they always did, even though
the smoothing process might be lengthy. They must do so, but how? There
were friends of course, and Ted, and thirty pounds of Consols unless
they'd gone down again, as safe investments are wont to do. She would
have to do some work. Rather funny, but how jolly to draw your first
month's or week's salary; everybody said it was a proud moment. Of
course it would have to be earned, but that did not matter: everybody
had to earn what they got, she supposed, and they ought to enjoy doing
it. Old Flynn, the D.C., used to say that work was a remunerative
occupation you didn't like, but then he had been twenty years in India.

Molly turned uneasily in her bunk and settled down again. Victoria's
train of thought was broken and she could not detach her attention from
the very gentle snore that came from the lower berth, a snore gentle but
so insidious that it seemed to dominate the steady beat of the screw.
Through the porthole, over which now there raced some flecks of spray,
she could see nothing but the blackness of the sky, a blackness which at
times turned to grey whenever the still inkier sea appeared. The cabin
seemed black and empty, lit up faintly by