n was tanned
to a rich brown, his eyes were a clear hard blue, his teeth strong and
white, his moustache was cut in a straight harsh line along the upper
lip. His cool gaze included his wife with the rest of the furnishings,
but he gave no acknowledgment of her presence; not a flicker of
expression passed over his face.

There came to Cassandra suddenly, irrepressibly, the necessity of
shocking him into life. She was not a woman who indulged in scenes; it
came naturally to her to hide her feelings, and act a part before the
world. If Bernard had not entered at just that psychological moment, if
he had looked one bit less sleek, and satisfied, and dense, she could
have gone on acting, as she had done for years past; as it was, a desire
for expression rose with giant force, and would not be gainsaid. Very
well! So be it. For once she would speak out, and Bernard should hear.
She had an acute, a devastating curiosity to hear what he would say.

"Bernard, are you busy? I want to speak to you."

He turned his head. The clear tints of his skin looked startlingly
healthy as seen in the light of the great open window.

"All right! Fire ahead."

"Bernard, do you love me?"

"Good Lord!" The utter stupefaction on Raynor's face proved that this
was the last of all questions which he had expected to hear. He came
across the room, and stood staring down into his wife's face. "What the
dickens is up?"

"Nothing is up. I asked you a simple question. What should be up?"

"I thought you'd taken offence at something I'd done!"

"You have done nothing in the least unusual that I know of. I rather
wish you had. _Do_ you, Bernard?"

"Do I what?"

"You know quite well, but I'll ask you again, if you prefer it. Do you
love me, Bernard?"

The man's ruddy face took a deeper tinge.

"I say, Cass, what rot is this? That was settled and done with years
ago. I married you. You're my wife. If you are not sure of me by this
time, you never will be."

"You are quite sure of yourself?"

"Of course I am. What d'you mean? I'm not the sort to er--er--"

Cassandra turned her head over her shoulder and flung him a challenging
glance, her blue eyes bright with defiance.

"Then you had better understand, Bernard, once for all, that--I am not
sure of myself! I'm not at all sure that I love _you_!"

She had said it. The words rang like a clarion call through the silent
room. After years of self-deception, and care