I thought his face (which had grown to be very
powerful) looked hard and strained; but his voice was as soft as ever
while he said I was doing right in going home and that my native air
must be good for me.

"But what's this Price tells me--that Madame is going with you?"

I tried to make light of that, but I broke down badly, for his eyes were
on me, and I could see that he thought I was concealing the truth.

For some minutes he looked perplexed, as if trying to understand how it
came to pass that sickening, as he believed I was, at the sight of my
husband's infidelities I was yet carrying the provocative cause of them
away with me, and then he said again:

"I hate that woman. She's like a snake. I feel as if I want to put my
foot on it. I will, too, one of these days--bet your life I will."

It hurt me to hide anything from him, but how could I tell him that it
was not from Alma I was flying but from himself?

When the day came for our departure I hoped I might get away without
seeing Martin again. We did get out of the hotel and into the railway
station, yet no sooner was I seated in the carriage than (in the cruel
war that was going on within me) I felt dreadfully down that he was not
there to see me off.

But at the very last moment, just as Alma with her spaniel under her
arm, and my husband with his terrier on a strap, were about to step into
the train, up came Martin like a gust of mountain wind.

"Helloa!" he cried. "I shall be seeing you soon. Everything's settled
about the expedition. We're to sail the first week in September, so as
to get the summer months in the Antarctic. But before that I must go
over to the island to say good-bye to the old folks, and I'll see you at
your father's I suppose."

Then Alma gave my husband a significant glance and said:

"But, Mary, my love, wouldn't it be better for Mr. Conrad to come to
Castle Raa? You won't be able to go about very much. Remember your
delicate condition, you know."

"Of course, why of course," said my husband. "That's quite true, and if
Mr. Conrad will do me the honour to accept my hospitality for a few
days. . . ."

It was what I wanted above everything on earth, and yet I said:

"No, no! It wouldn't be fair. Martin will be too busy at the last
moment."

But Martin himself jumped in eagerly with:

"Certainly! Delighted! Greatest pleasure in the world."

And then, while Alma gave my husband a look of arch triumph to which he
replied w