mly that even Tudor, with all his experience, was
momentarily shocked. "Avery!" he said sharply. "You are morbid!"

She looked at him then with her tired eyes. "Am I?" she said. "I really
don't feel particularly sad--only worn out. When anyone has been
burnt--badly burnt--it destroys the nerve tissues, doesn't it? They don't
suffer after that has happened. I think that is my case."

"You will suffer," said Tudor.

He spoke brutally; he wanted to rouse her from her lethargy, to pierce
somehow that dreadful calm.

But he failed; she only faintly smiled.

"I can bear bodily suffering," she said, "particularly if it leads to
freedom and peace."

He got up as if it were he who had been pierced. "You won't die!" he said
harshly. "I won't let you die!"

Her eyes went back to the fire, as if attracted thereto irresistibly.
"Most of me died last August," she said in a low voice.

"You are wrong!" He stood over her almost threateningly. "When you hold
your child in your arms you will see how wrong. Tell me, when is your
husband coming back to you?"

That reached her. She looked up at him with a quick hunted look.
"Never!" she said.

He looked back at her mercilessly. "Never is a long time, Lady Evesham.
Do you think he will be kept at arm's length when you are through your
trouble? Do you think--whatever his sins--that he has no claim upon
you? Mind, I don't like him. I never did and I never shall. But you--you
are sworn to him."

He had never spoken so to her before. She flinched as if he had struck
her with a whip. She put her hands over her face, saying no word.

He stood for a few moments stern, implacable, looking down at her. Then
very suddenly his attitude changed. His face softened. He stooped and
touched her shoulder.

"Avery!" His voice was low and vehement; he spoke into her ear. "When you
first kicked him out, I was mean enough to feel glad. But I soon
saw--that he took all that is vital in you with him. Avery,--my
dear,--for God's sake--have him back!"

She did not speak or move, save for a spasmodic shuddering that shook her
whole frame.

He bent lower. "Avery, I say, can't you--for the baby's sake--anyway
consider it?"

She flung out her hands with a cry. "The child is cursed! The child will
die!" There was terrible conviction in the words. She lifted a tortured
face. "Oh, don't you see," she said piteously, "how impossible it is for
me? Don't--don't say any more!"

"I won't," said Tudor.