'Yes, alone.'

'You haven't had dinner?'

'No.'

He seemed to be in rather a gloomy mood, but Monica noticed nothing
that alarmed her. He was drawing nearer, his eyes on the ground.

'Have you had bad news--in the City?'

'Yes, I have.'

Still he came nearer, and at length, when a yard or two away, raised
his look to her face.

'Have you been out this afternoon?'

She was prompted to a falsehood, but durst not utter it, so keenly was
he regarding her.

'Yes, I went to see Miss Barfoot.'

'Liar!'

As the word burst from his lips, he sprang at her, clutched her dress
at the throat, and flung her violently upon her knees. A short cry of
terror escaped her; then she was stricken dumb, with eyes starting and
mouth open. It was well that he held her by the garment and not by the
neck, for his hand closed with murderous convulsion, and the desire of
crushing out her life was for an instant all his consciousness.

'Liar!' again burst from him. 'Day after day you have lied to me. Liar!
Adultress!'

'I am not! I am not that!'

She clung upon his arms and strove to raise herself. The bloodless
lips, the choked voice, meant dread of him, but the distortion of her
features was hatred and the will to resist.

'Not that? What is your word worth? The prostitute in the street is
sooner to be believed. She has the honesty to say what she is, but
you--Where were you yesterday when you were not at your sister's? Where
were you this afternoon?'

She had nearly struggled to her feet; he thrust her down again, crushed
her backwards until her head all but touched the floor.

'Where were you? Tell the truth, or you shall never speak again!'

'Oh--help! help! He will kill me!'

Her cry rang through the room.

'Call them up--let them come and look at you and hear what you are.
Soon enough every one will know. Where were you this afternoon? You
were watched every step of the way from here to that place where you
have made yourself a base, vile, unclean creature--.'

'I am not that! Your spies have misled you.'

'Misled? Didn't you go to that man Barfoot's door and knock there? And
because you were disappointed, didn't you wait about, and go there a
second time?'

'What if I did? It doesn't mean what you think.'

'What? You go time after time to the private chambers of an unmarried
man--a man such as that--and it means no harm?'

'I have never been there before.'

'You expect me to believe you?' Widdowson crie