knees," she declared, "asking God to save you from
yourself."

"Don't talk rot, Angela," he returned coldly. "You know how I feel about
this thing. How much worse am I now than I was before? I tried to get
you on the phone to tell you. I went to find her and bring her back, and
I did as far as Lenox. I am going to win this fight. I am going to get
Suzanne, either legally or otherwise. If you want to give me a divorce,
you can. I will provide amply for you. If you don't I'm going to take
her, anyhow. That's understood between me and her. Now what's the use of
hysterics?"

Angela looked at him tearfully. Could this be the Eugene she had known?
In each scene with him, after each plea, or through it, she came to this
adamantine wall. Was he really so frantic about this girl? Was he going
to do what he said? He outlined to her quite calmly his plans as
recently revised, and at one point Angela, speaking of Mrs. Dale,
interrupted him--"she will never give her up to you--you will see. You
think she will. She says she will. She is only fooling you. She is
fighting for time. Think what you are doing. You can't win."

"Oh, yes, I can," said Eugene, "I practically have already. She will
come to me."

"She may, she may, but at what a cost. Look at me, Eugene. Am I not
enough? I am still good looking. You have declared to me time and again
that I have a beautiful form. See, see"--she tore open her dressing gown
and the robe de nuit, in which she had come in. She had arranged this
scene, especially thought it out, and hoped it would move him. "Am I not
enough? Am I not still all that you desire?"

Eugene turned his head away in disgust--wearily--sick of their
melodramatic appeals. This was the last role Angela should have played.
It was the most ineffectual, the least appropriate at the moment. It was
dramatic, striking, but totally ineffective under the circumstances.

"It's useless acting in that way to me, Angela," he said. "I'm no longer
to be moved in that way by you. All marital affection between us is
dead--terribly so. Why plead to me with something that has no appeal. I
can't help it. It's dead. Now what are we going to do about it?"

Once more Angela turned wearily. Although she was nerve worn and
despairing, she was still fascinated by the tragedy which was being
played out under her eyes. Would nothing make him see?

They went their separate ways for the night, and the next day he was at
his desk again. Word came