direction. Perhaps Monica
understood this; he had begun to esteem her a mistress in craft and
intrigue.

'You say you were never at that man's rooms before to-day?' he asked in
a lower voice.

'What I have said you must take the trouble to recollect. I shall
answer no question.'

Again the impulse assailed him to wring confession from her by terror.
He took a step forward, the demon in his face. Monica in that moment
leapt past him, and reached the door of the room before he could stop
her.

'Stay where you are!' she cried, 'If your hands touch me again I shall
call for help until someone comes up. I won't endure your touch!'

'Do you pretend you are innocent of any crime against me?'

'I am not what you called me. Explain everything as you like. I will
explain nothing. I want only to be free from you.'

She opened the door, rapidly crossed the landing, and went upstairs.
Feeling it was useless to follow, Widdowson allowed the door to remain
wide, and waited. Five minutes passed and Monica came down again,
dressed for leaving the house.

'Where are you going?' he asked, stepping out of the room to intercept
her.

'It is nothing to you. I am going away.'

They subdued their voices, which might else have been audible the
servants below.

'No, that you shall not!'

He stepped forward to block the head of the stairs, but again Monica
was too quick for him. She fled down, and across the hall, and to the
house-door. Only there, as she was arrested by the difficulty of
drawing back the two latches, did Widdowson overtake her.

'Make what scandal you like, you don't leave this house.'

His tones were violent rather than resolute. What could he do? If
Monica persisted, what means had he of confining her to the
house--short of carrying her by main force to an upper room and there
locking her in? He knew that his courage would not sustain him through
such a task as this.

'For scandal I care nothing,' was her reply. 'One way or another I will
leave the house.'

'Where are you going?'

'To my sister's.'

His hand on the door, Widdowson stood as if determined in opposition.
But her will was stronger than his. Only by homicide can a man maintain
his dignity in a situation of this kind; Widdowson could not kill his
wife, and every moment that he stood there made him more ridiculous,
more contemptible.

He turned back into the hall and reached his hat. Whilst he was doing
so Monica opened the door. Heavy ra