es brilliant with anger, she sat speechless and
rigid, clutching the steering-wheel as he nimbly descended to the
platform.

"Good-bye, Shiela," he said with a haggard smile. "I meant well--as
usual."

Something about him as he stood there alone in the lamp's white radiance
stilled her anger by degrees.

"Good-bye," she said with an effort.

He nodded, replaced his hat, and turned away.

"Good-bye, Louis," she said more gently.

He retraced his steps, and stood beside the motor, hat off. She bent
forward, generous, as always, and extended her hand.

"What you said to me hurt," she said. "Do you think it would not be easy
for me to persuade myself? I believe in divorce with all my heart and
soul and intelligence. I _know_ it is right and just. But not for me....
Louis--how can I do this thing to them? How can I go to them and
disclose myself as a common creature of common origin and primitive
impulse, showing the crack in the gay gilding and veneer they have
laboured to cover me with?... I cannot.... I could endure the disgrace
myself; I cannot disgrace them. Think of the ridicule they would suffer
if it became known that for two years I had been married, and now wanted
a public divorce? No! No! There is nothing to do, nothing to hope
for.... If it is--advisable--I will tell them, and take your name
openly.... I am so uncertain, so frightened at moments--so perplexed.
There is no one to tell me what to do.... And, believe me, I am sorry
for you--I am deeply, deeply sorry! Good-bye."

"And I for you," he said. "Good-bye."

She sat in her car, waiting, until the train started.

CHAPTER XVII

ECHOES

Some minutes later, on the northward speeding train, he left Portlaw
playing solitaire in their own compartment, and, crossing the swaying
corridor, entered the state-room opposite. Miss Wilming was there,
reading a novel, an enormous bunch of roses, a box of bonbons, and a
tiny kitten on the table before her. The kitten was so young that it was
shaky on its legs, and it wore very wide eyes and a blue bow.

"Hello, Dolly," he said pleasantly. She answered rather faintly.

"What a voice--like the peep of an infant sparrow! Are you worrying?"

"A little."

"You needn't be. Alphonse will make a noise, of course, but you needn't
mind that. The main thing in life is to know what you want to do and do
it. Which I've never yet done in my life. Zut! Zut!!--as our late Count
Alphonse might say. And he'll say