to-day.

Kitty had told her of Barry's interview with Trenby and of its utter
futility, and, although Nan had been prepared to sacrifice her whole
existence to the man who had suffered so terrible an injury, she was
bitterly disappointed that he proposed exacting it from her as a right
rather than accepting it as a free gift.

If for once he could have shown himself generous and offered to give
her back her freedom--an offer she would have refused to accept--how
much the fact that each of them had been willing to make a sacrifice
might have helped to sweeten their married life! Instead, Roger had
forced upon her the realisation that he was unchanged--still the same
arrogant "man with the club" that he had always been, insisting on his
own way, either by brute force or by the despotism of a moral
obligation which was equally compelling.

But these thoughts fled--driven away by a rush of overwhelming
sympathy--when her eyes fell on the great, impotent hulk of a man who
lay propped up against his pillows. A nurse slipped past her in the
doorway and paused to whisper, as she went:

"Don't stay too long. He's run down a lot since this morning. I
begged him not to see any more visitors to-day, but he insisted upon
seeing you."

The nurse recalled very vividly the picture of her patient when she had
endeavoured to dissuade him from this second interview--his white,
rather drawn face and the eyes which blazed feverishly at her beneath
their penthouse brows.

"You've got to let me see my best girl to-day, nurse," he had said,
forcing a smile. "After that you shall have your own way and work your
wicked will on me."

And the nurse, thinking that perhaps a visit from his "best girl" might
help to allay the new restlessness she found in him, had yielded,
albeit somewhat reluctantly.

"Oh, Roger!" With a low cry of dismay Nan ran to the bed and slipped
down on her knees beside it.

"It's a rotten bit of luck, isn't it?" he returned briefly.

She expected the fierce clasp of his arms about her and had steeled
herself to submit to his kisses without flinching. But he did not
offer to kiss her. Instead, pointing to a chair, he said quietly:

"Pull up that chair--I'm sorry I can't offer to do it for you!--and sit
down."

She obeyed, while he watched her in silence. The silence lasted so
long that at last, finding it almost unbearable, she broke it.

"Roger, I'm so--so grieved to see you--like this." She leane