the stranger's eye, to
sleep as before. Asa Arnold sat through it all, still as one
devitalized; an expression on his face no man had ever seen before;
one hopeless, lonely, akin to that of the woman.

"Read, if you wish," repeated Camilla, bitterly.

For a long minute her companion made no motion.

"It's unnecessary," he intoned at last. "You know as well as I that
neither of us will ever forget one word it contains." He hesitated and
his voice grew gentle. "Eleanor, you know I didn't come here to
insult you, or to hurt you needlessly;--but I'm human. You seem to
forget this. You brand me less than a man, and then ask of me the
unselfishness of a God!"

Camilla's white face lifted from her hands.

"I ask nothing except that you leave me alone."

For the first time the little man showed his teeth.

"At last you mention the point I came here to arrange. Were you
alone, rest assured I shouldn't trouble you."

"You mean--"

"I mean just this. I wouldn't be human if I did what you ask--if I
condoned what you've done and are still doing." He was fairly started
now, and words came crowding each other; reproachful, tempestuous.

"Didn't you ever stop to think of the past--think what you've done,
Eleanor?" He paused without giving her an opportunity to answer. "Let
me tell you, then. You've broken every manner of faith between man and
woman. If you believe in God, you've broken faith with Him as well.
Don't think for a moment I ever had respect for marriage as a divine
institution, but I did have respect for you, and at your wish we
conformed. You're my wife now, by your own choosing. Don't interrupt
me, please. I repeat, God has no more to do with ceremonial marriage
now than he had at the time of the Old Testament and polygamy. It's a
man-made bond, but an obligation nevertheless, and as such, at the
foundation of all good faith between man and woman. It's this good
faith you've broken." A look of bitterness flashed over his face.

"Still, I could excuse this and release you at the asking, remaining
your friend, your best friend as before; but to be thrown aside
without even a 'by your leave,' and that for another man--" He
hesitated and finished slowly:

"You know me well enough, Eleanor, to realize that I'm in earnest when
I say that while I live the man has yet to be born who can take
something of mine away from me."

Camilla gestured passionately.

"In other words: while growling hard at the dog who appr