the special train at Paddington coupling
up to speed him to Plymouth, with the "Aurelia" turning back, against
the protest of its thousand passengers, to take him on board, the
situation was radically changed.

Matheson had realised the altered situation, and putting aside any
over-fine scruples, had gripped advantage from it.

Larssen's eyes blazed anger at the financier. Then he held out his hand
to Olive.

"Good-bye!" he said.

"Good-bye!" she answered, taking his hand.

"You or I?" repeated Matheson.

The shipowner turned at the door through which he was hurrying out.

"I," he conceded.

"Then sign on it."

"Don't sign!" cried Olive.

"He _must_ sign!"

Larssen rushed back to his desk and scribbled on a sheet of paper:
"Until May 3rd, I fix up nothing with the underwriters."

He scrawled his signature under it, and without further word hurried
from the throne-room.

Matheson and his wife were left alone.

When Larssen had closed the door behind him, Olive felt as if a big
strong arm of support had suddenly been taken away from her. Larssen's
mere presence, even if he remained silent, gave her a fictitious sense
of her own power, which now was crumbling away and leaving her with a
feeling of insecurity and self-distrust.

Openly it expressed itself in peevish annoyance.

"Why couldn't you have stayed away altogether?" she muttered fretfully.
"Nobody wanted you back. Your scruples, indeed! I must say you have a
pretty mixed set of them. If you had had any consideration for me, you'd
have stayed away altogether, instead of coming back and making scenes of
this kind. I hate scenes! And why did you force that month's wait at the
last moment? Now things are complicated worse than ever!"

Matheson waited patiently for his wife to finish the recital of her
complaints. He wondered if it were possible to appeal once more to her
better feelings. At all events he would make the attempt. The signature
he had forced out of Larssen had given him back some of his
self-respect, and he felt his brain as it were cleared for action once
more.

When Olive had finished, Matheson asked her quietly: "Why did you marry
me?"

"Why did you marry _me_?" she retorted.

"Because I honestly believed at the time that I loved you."

"I suppose you found out afterwards that you'd made a mistake, and then
blamed it on to me?"

"I'm not blaming you--I'm trying to get the right perspective on to our
marriage. I'm wonderi