ich
they had left.

"Men do not become like that," she said, "of their own will, or from
their own fault alone. He is mad, and in madness is truth. Did you not
hear him say that it was she who had destroyed him? Am I to lose father
and brother, ay, and husband, Douglas, and sit meekly in my
chimney-corner?"

"As to the last," he said, "you know that it was your father's doing. I
was nothing to you. He ordered, and we obeyed in those days. He ruled
us like a tyrant. One would not wish to speak evil of the dead, or else
one would surely say that it was he who was responsible for the evil
things which have come upon us.

"How do you know?" she demanded fiercely. "Were you not my promised
husband?--and you stole away like a coward from the pestilence."

He was aghast, silent from sheer confusion. This was a point of view
which had never once occurred to him.

"Am I not a woman?" she continued, with rising passion--"as other women?
You were given to me, you were mine. Why should you steal away like a
thief with never a word, and ignore me wholly as a creature of no worth?
Come, answer me that. Were you not my promised husband?"

"I never spoke a word of love to you," he said "Your father forced it on
us."

She leaned over the table towards him.

"You fool!" she cried. "Do you think life at Feldwick was any more
bearable to me than to you and Cissy, because I wasn't always mooning
about on the hills or reading poetry? You never took the trouble to
find out. You looked upon me as a drudge because I did the work which
was my duty. You were mine, and I wanted you. When you stole away I
hated you. I have tried to hunt you down because I hated you. You have
escaped me now, but I shall hate you always. Remember it, Douglas
Guest. Some day you may yet have cause to."

She left him speechless, too amazed to think of making her any answer.
It was Joan who had said these things to him, Joan the silent, with her
hard, handsome face and her Lather's dogged silence. Never again would
he believe that he understood anything whatsoever about women. He
walked up and down for a while restlessly, then put on his hat and
walked across to the club.

* * * * *

"Let me go, I tell you! By Heaven, there'll be mischief if you don't!"

Half a dozen of them were holding Drexley--a pitiable sight. His coat
was torn, his eyes seemed starting from his sockets, his breath reeked
of brandy and his face was pale