this irritability meant, and we sat in
silence gazing into the glowing ashes. His fingers beat a nervous tattoo
against the chair and presently, with some mumbled words, he rose and
moved towards the door. Now I knew the fight was on, the fight with the
Demon, drink, that was drawing him away from me. I followed him into the
hall.

"'Don't go,' I pleaded, but he pushed my hand from the door-knob.

"'I'll be back soon,' he said, reaching for his hat.

"'Wait!' I whispered. Deep within I breathed a prayer: 'Brave heart,
have courage; nimble wit, be alert; warm, white body hold him fast.'

"'Come back ... before the fire ... I want to talk to you,' I leaned
against him caressingly, but I could feel no response as I nestled
closer.

"'Don't you care for me any more?' I questioned tenderly.

"He was still unyielding, his brain was busy with the thought of the
brown liquor that his whole system craved. Purposely I drew back my
flowing sleeve and placed my warm flesh against his face. He turned to
his old seat before the fire.

"'All right, I'll stay for ten minutes ... if what you say is
important.'

"When he was once more comfortable, I brought a cushion to his chair and
snuggled down at his feet, with my head resting against him. I drew his
half reluctant hand around my throat, then I exerted every part of my
brain force ... to hold him. Ceaselessly I talked of our old days
together--camping trips to the Northern woods of Canada, wonderful weeks
of idling down the river in our launch, days of ideal happiness, spent
together. I appealed to his love for me, his old love, and the memory of
our early married life. He was unresponsive, and I could feel the
restlessness of his fingers in my hair.

"Presently he pushed me aside, not ungently this time but,
nevertheless, firmly. Once more the struggle began, and now I must rely
on the old physical lure to hold him.... Well, I won. I kept him with me
but was it worth such a sacrifice? As I think ... I burn with shame."

There are many entries in my diary like this, for my life with Julian
was full of scenes when I tried so hard ... so hard ... all in vain!

* * * * *

Here is another picture:

"Last night Julian came home in a hilarious mood. His habitual sullen
look had gone and he almost seemed the man who had won me--before I knew
him as he really is.

"'Come along, Penny,' he laughed as he caught me in his arms. 'We're
going to ce