in his past, some cloud of
which he would never speak openly. But I never dreamed--never guessed--"
She broke off with a sharp shudder. "Besides, he has offered no
explanation, no excuse, no denial. He lets me believe the worst, and he
doesn't care. He is utterly callous--utterly brutal. That is how I know
that the worst is true." She rose abruptly, as if inaction had become
torture to her. "Oh, I must leave him!" she cried out wildly. "I am
nothing to him. My feelings are less than nothing. He doesn't really want
me. Any woman could fill my place with him equally well!"

"Hush!" Mrs. Lorimer said. She went to Avery and held her tightly, as if
she would herself do battle with the evil within. "You are not to say
that, Avery. You are not to think it. It is utterly untrue. Suffering may
have goaded him into brutality, but he is not wicked at heart. And, my
dear, he is in your hands now--to make or to mar. He worships you
blindly, and if his worship has become an unholy thing, it is because the
thought of losing you has driven him nearly distracted. You can win it
back--if you will."

"I don't want to win it back!" Avery said. She suffered the arms about
her, but she stood rigid in their embrace, unyielding, unresponding. "His
love is horrible to me! I abhor it!"

"Avery! Your husband!"

"He is a murderer!" Avery cried passionately. "He would murder me too
if--if he could bring himself to do without me! He hates me in his soul."

"Avery, hush! You are distraught. You don't know what you are saying."
Mrs. Lorimer drew her back to her chair with tender insistence. "Sit
down, darling! And try--do try--to be quiet for a little! You are worn
out. I don't think you can have had any sleep."

"Sleep!" Avery almost laughed, and then again those burning, blinding
tears rushed to her eyes. "Oh, you don't know what I've been through!"
she sobbed. "You don't know! You don't know!"

"God knows, darling," whispered Mrs. Lorimer.

Minutes later, when Avery was lying back exhausted, no longer sobbing,
only dumbly weeping, there came a gentle knock at the door.

Mrs. Lorimer went to it quickly, and met her eldest daughter upon the
point of entering. Jeanie looked up at her enquiringly.

"Is anyone here?"

"Yes, dear. Avery is here. She isn't very well this morning. Run and
fetch her a glass of milk!"

Jeanie hastened away. Mrs. Lorimer returned to Avery.

"My darling," she said, "do you know I think I can see a way to help