is the most captivating thing about you. And
what do you think of doing if I continue to offend you? Do you propose
to desert us--to leave poor Rosalie to sink back again into the bundle
of old clothes she was when you came? For Heaven's sake, don't do that!"

All that his words suggested took form before her vividly. How well he
understood what he was saying. But she answered him bravely.

"No. I do not mean to do that."

He watched her for a few seconds. There was curiosity in his eyes.

"Don't make the mistake of imagining that I will let my wife go with you
to America," he said next. "She is as far off from that as she was when
I brought her to Stornham. I have told her so. A man cannot tie his wife
to the bedpost in these days, but he can make her efforts to leave him
so decidedly unpleasant that decent women prefer to stay at home and
take what is coming. I have seen that often enough 'to bank on it,' if I
may quote your American friends."

"Do you remember my once saying," Betty remarked, "that when a woman has
been PROPERLY ill-treated the time comes when nothing matters--nothing
but release from the life she loathes?"

"Yes," he answered. "And to you nothing would matter but--excuse
my saying it--your own damnable, headstrong pride. But Rosalie is
different. Everything matters to her. And you will find it so, my dear
girl."

And that this was at least half true was brought home to her by the fact
that late the same night Rosy came to her white with crying.

"It is not your fault, Betty," she said. "Don't think that I think it is
your fault, but he has been in my room in one of those humours when he
seems like a devil. He thinks you will go back to America and try to
take me with you. But, Betty, you must not think about me. It will be
better for you to go. I have seen you again. I have had you for--for a
time. You will be safer at home with father and mother."

Betty laid a hand on her shoulder and looked at her fixedly.

"What is it, Rosy?" she said. "What is it he does to you--that makes
you like this?"

"I don't know--but that he makes me feel that there is nothing but
evil and lies in the world and nothing can help one against them.
Those things he says about everyone--men and women--things one can't
repeat--make me sick. And when I try to deny them, he laughs."

"Does he say things about me?" Betty inquired, very quietly, and
suddenly Rosalie threw her arms round her.

"Betty, darling," she