e was fain to admit, but she was
further from understanding him now than she had ever been. He had
retired into his shell so completely that it seemed unlikely that he
would ever again emerge, and she did not dare to make the first advance.

Her return to London had been one of the greatest ordeals she had ever
faced, but she had endured it unflinchingly, and had found that London
had already almost forgotten the eccentricity of her marriage. In the
height of the season memories are short.

Caryl had taken a flat overlooking the river, and here they had settled
down. He spent the greater part of his day at the Law Courts, and Doris
found herself thrown a good deal upon her own resources. In happier days
this had been her ideal, but for some reason it did not now content her.

Returning from her encounter with Mrs. Lockyard at the club, she told
herself with sudden petulance that life in town had lost all charm for
her.

Entering the dainty sitting-room that looked on to the river, she
dropped into a chair by the window and stared out with her chin in her
hands. The river was a blaze of gold. A line of long black barges was
drifting down-stream in the wake of a noisy steam-tug. She watched them
absently, sick at heart.

Gradually the shining water grew blurred and dim. Its beauty wholly
passed her by, or if she saw it, it was only in vivid contrast to the
darkness in her soul. For a little, wide-eyed, she resisted the impulse
that tugged at her heart-strings; but at last in sheer weariness she
gave in. What did it matter, a tear more or less? There was no one to
know or care. And tears were sometimes a relief. She bowed her head upon
the sill and wept.

"Why, Doris!" a quiet voice said.

She started, started violently, and sprang upright.

Caryl was standing slightly behind her, his hand on the back of her
chair, but as she rose he came forward and stood beside her.

"What is it?" he said. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not!" she declared vehemently. "I wasn't! You--you startled
me--that's all."

She turned her back on him and hastily dabbed her eyes. She was furious
with him for coming upon her thus.

He stood at the window, looking out upon the long, black barges in
silence.

After a few seconds of desperate effort she controlled herself and
turned round.

"I never heard you come in. I--must have been asleep."

He did not look at her, or attempt to refute the statement.

"I thought you were going to b