Nothing in his bald statement of his
marriage to her mother and the subsequent desertion had evoked the
reproach, the recrimination, for which he had steeled himself when she
entered the room. He felt his hold upon the interview lessening. He had
believed himself expert in calculating effects, yet apparently she had
heard his announcement, delivered with a brutal directness, without
emotion.

"This isn't quite all, Mr. Bassett," Sylvia began after a moment. "You
have offered me reparation, or what you called by that name. You can't
deny that I have a right to be satisfied with that reparation."

"Certainly; anything in reason. It is for you to name the terms; I
expect you to make them--adequate."

"Let us go back a moment," she began, smiling at the care with which he
had chosen his last word. "Last night I fought out for myself the whole
matter of your scoundrelly, cowardly treatment of my mother. You can
make no reparation to her. The time passed long ago for that. And there
is absolutely nothing you can do for me. I will accept nothing from you,
neither the name you denied to her nor money, now or later. So there is
only one other person whose interest or whose happiness we need
consider."

He stared at her frowning, not understanding. Once more, as on that day
when she had laughed at him, or again when she had taken the affairs of
his own household into her hands, he was conscious of the strength that
lay in her, of her power to drive him back upon himself. Something of
his own masterful spirit had entered into her, but with a difference.
Her self-control, her patient persistence, her sobriety of judgment, her
reasoning mind, were like his own. She was as keen and resourceful as
he, and he was eager for the explanation she withheld, as though,
knowing that she had driven in his pickets, he awaited the charge of her
lines. He bent toward her, feeling her charm, yielding to the
fascination she had for him.

"No," he said gently and kindly. "I don't see; I don't understand you."

She saw and felt the change in him; but she was on guard against a
reaction. He could not know how her heart throbbed, or how it had seemed
for a moment that words would not come to her lips.

"It is to you; it is to yourself that you must make the reparation. And
you must make it now. There may never be a time like this; it is your
great opportunity."

"You think, you ask--" he began warily; and she was quick to see that
the precise