, at the devastation of some natural
disaster.

"Then," he continued after a short pause, "the best thing is . . .
the best for us . . . for every one. . . . Yes . . . least pain--most
unselfish. . . ." His voice faltered, and she heard only detached words.
". . . Duty. . . . Burden. . . . Ourselves. . . . Silence."

A moment of perfect stillness ensued.

"This is an appeal I am making to your conscience," he said, suddenly,
in an explanatory tone, "not to add to the wretchedness of all this:
to try loyally and help me to live it down somehow. Without any
reservations--you know. Loyally! You can't deny I've been cruelly
wronged and--after all--my affection deserves . . ." He paused with
evident anxiety to hear her speak.

"I make no reservations," she said, mournfully. "How could I? I found
myself out and came back to . . ." her eyes flashed scornfully for an
instant ". . . to what--to what you propose. You see . . . I . . . I can
be trusted . . . now."

He listened to every word with profound attention, and when she ceased
seemed to wait for more.

"Is that all you've got to say?" he asked.

She was startled by his tone, and said faintly--

"I spoke the truth. What more can I say?"

"Confound it! You might say something human," he burst out. "It isn't
being truthful; it's being brazen--if you want to know. Not a word
to show you feel your position, and--and mine. Not a single word of
acknowledgment, or regret--or remorse . . . or . . . something."

"Words!" she whispered in a tone that irritated him. He stamped his
foot.

"This is awful!" he exclaimed. "Words? Yes, words. Words mean
something--yes--they do--for all this infernal affectation. They mean
something to me--to everybody--to you. What the devil did you use to
express those sentiments--sentiments--pah!--which made you forget me,
duty, shame!" . . . He foamed at the mouth while she stared at him,
appalled by this sudden fury. "Did you two talk only with your eyes?" he
spluttered savagely. She rose.

"I can't bear this," she said, trembling from head to foot. "I am
going."

They stood facing one another for a moment.

"Not you," he said, with conscious roughness, and began to walk up
and down the room. She remained very still with an air of listening
anxiously to her own heart-beats, then sank down on the chair slowly,
and sighed, as if giving up a task beyond her strength.

"You misunderstand everything I say," he began quietly, "but I prefe