he devotion
his wife had shown would have drawn him back to her; had she been a
different woman, unvexed by a horrible remembrance, she would have made
his soul her own and her soul his own once again. She had not dared to
tell him the truth; afraid more for her boy's sake than for her own.
She had been glad that Tarboe had helped to replace the broken link
with Fabian, that he had taken the place which Carnac, had he been John
Grier's son, ought to have taken. She could not blame Carnac, and she
could not blame her husband, but the thing ate into her heart.

John Grier found her sitting by her table in the great living-room,
patient and grave, and yet she smiled at him, and rose as he came into
the room. His troubled face brought her forward quickly. She stretched
out a hand appealingly to him.

"What's the matter, John? Has anything upset you?"

"I'm not upset."

"Yes you are," she urged, "but, yes, you are! Something has gone wrong."

"Nothing's gone wrong that hasn't been wrong for many a year," he said.

"What's been wrong for many a year?"

"The boys you brought into this world--your sons!" he burst out. "Why
isn't Carnac working with me? There must have been something damned bad
in the bringing up of those boys. I've not, got the love of any of you,
and I know it. Why should I be thrown over by every one?"

"Every one hasn't thrown you over. Mr. Tarboe hasn't. You've been in
great spirits about him. What's the matter?"

He waved a hand savagely at her, with an almost insane look in his eyes.

"What's he to me! He's a man of business. In a business way I like him,
but I want my own flesh and blood by me in my business. I wanted Carnac,
and he wouldn't come--a few weeks only he came. I had Fabian, and he
wouldn't stay. If I'd had a real chance--"

He broke off, with an outward savage protest of his hands, his voice
falling.

"If you'd had your chance, you'd have made your own home happy,"
she said sadly. "That was your first duty, not your business--your
home--your home! You didn't care about it. There were times when for
months you forgot me; and then--then--"

Suddenly a dreadful suspicion seized his brain. His head bent forward,
his shoulders thrust out, he stumbled towards her.

"Then--well, what then!" he gasped. "Then--you--forgot--"

She realized she had gone too far, saw the storm in his mind.

"No--no--no, I didn't forget you, John. Never--but--"

She got no farther. Suddenly his hands