the note, and turned
away to the window. I was very glad that was all over, but terribly
sorry for him too, of course. I don't remember what I said, but I
remember putting my hand on his arm as he stood there staring out on
the garden and just then my husband appeared at the open door with some
papers. He just glanced at us, and then turned and walked quietly back
to his study. I thought that he might have heard what I was saying to
comfort Mr Marlowe, and that it was rather nice of him to slip away.
Mr Marlowe neither saw nor heard him. My husband left the house that
morning for the West while I was out. Even then I did not understand. He
used often to go off suddenly like that, if some business project called
him.

'It was not until he returned a week later that I grasped the situation.
He was looking white and strange, and as soon as he saw me he asked
me where Mr Marlowe was. Somehow the tone of his question told me
everything in a flash.

'I almost gasped; I was wild with indignation. You know, Mr Trent,
I don't think I should have minded at all if any one had thought me
capable of openly breaking with my husband and leaving him for somebody
else. I dare say I might have done that. But that coarse suspicion...
a man whom he trusted... and the notion of concealment. It made me see
scarlet. Every shred of pride in me was strung up till I quivered, and I
swore to myself on the spot that I would never show by any word or sign
that I was conscious of his having such a thought about me. I would
behave exactly as I always had behaved, I determined--and that I did, up
to the very last. Though I knew that a wall had been made between us now
that could never be broken down--even if he asked my pardon and obtained
it--I never once showed that I noticed any change.

'And so it went on. I never could go through such a time again. My
husband showed silent and cold politeness to me always when we were
alone--and that was only when it was unavoidable. He never once alluded
to what was in his mind; but I felt it, and he knew that I felt it. Both
of us were stubborn in our different attitudes. To Mr Marlowe he was
more friendly, if anything, than before--Heaven only knows why. I
fancied he was planning some sort of revenge; but that was only a fancy.
Certainly Mr Marlowe never knew what was suspected of him. He and I
remained good friends, though we never spoke of anything intimate after
that disappointment of his; but I made a