d it, "a pretty mixed set of scruples." He felt he had to do the
square thing by his wife, by Elaine, and by the public who were being
called upon to invest their savings under the guarantee of his name. He
had to smash the shipowner's scheme, and he had to get back to his own
scientific work in peace and quietude.

For Olive, as for Larssen, decisions were far simpler. Her objective was
her own gratification; the only point in doubt was the most prudent way
to attain it. Her present dominant wish was to revenge herself on
Elaine, and to do that she was ready to make any sacrifice of other
desires. Even her infatuation for Larssen paled against the white-hot
light of this new passion.

Elaine, exhausted by the tension of her interview with Olive, slept that
night in a succession of heavy-dreamed dozes punctuated by violent
starts of waking, like a train creeping into a London terminus through
an irregular detonation of fog-signals. Why had Riviere sent no answer
to her message? What had Olive said to him? Had she done the best
possible thing to free Riviere? That was the never-ceasing anxiety. In
her great love for him, the one thing she most desired was to _give_.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE PARTING

At the breakfast-table the next morning, Riviere found a letter with an
official seal awaiting him. It was a call to Nimes to give evidence in
the coming trial of the peasant Crau. He was asked to be there on a date
a few days later.

Olive was already waiting for him in the palm-lounge of the Quisisana
when he reached there at ten-o'clock. She was smilingly gracious--had
seemingly forgiven him his doubting of her word the evening before. They
took a taxi to the nursing home, and on the way Olive stopped at a
florist's to buy a bunch of tiger-lilies. Her choice of flower struck
Riviere as very characteristic of her own temperament.

They received permission to visit the patient, and were shown to her
room by a nurse.

"I have brought you a few flowers, dear," said Olive.

Elaine murmured some words of thanks and felt the flowers to see what
they might be. When she recognized them, they conveyed to her the same
impression as they had done to Riviere. She drew her vase of white lilac
nearer to her, and that trifling action seemed to Riviere as though she
were calling upon him for protection.

"We've come to talk matters over calmly and dispassionately," said
Olive, taking the reins of conversation into her own han