ration: Why, what's the matter, Marsh?]

"Look here, Evelyn," he said at last. "What's the use of going on in
this way, why can't we get back to some decent understanding?" He was
hungry for tenderness from her; acute physical fear was holding him in
its grip. He leaned back in his chair and found support for his head.
"You're right," he went on, "I can't stand this racket much longer--this
work and worry; we are living beyond our means; we'll have to slow up,
get down to a more sane basis." The words came from his blue lips in
jerky disjointed sentences. "What's the use, it's too much of a
struggle! I do a thousand things I don't want to do, shady things in my
practice, things no reputable lawyer should stoop to, and all to make a
few dollars to throw away. I tell you, I am sick of it! Why can't we be
as other people, reasonable and patient--that's the thing, to be
patient, and just bide our time. We can't live like millionaires on my
income, what's the use of trying--I tell you we are fools!"

"Are matters so desperate with us?" Evelyn asked. "And is it all my
fault?"

"I can't do anything to pull up unless you help, me," Langham said.

"Well, are matters so desperate?" she repeated.

He did not answer her at once.

"Bad enough," he replied at length and was silent.

A sense of terrible loneliness swept over him; a loneliness peopled with
shadows, in which he was the only living thing, but the shadows were
infinitely more real than he himself. He had the brute instinct to hide,
and the human instinct to share his fear. He poured himself a drink.
Evelyn watched him with compressed lips as he drained the glass. He drew
himself up out of the depths of his chair and began to tramp the floor;
words leaped to his lips but he pressed them back; he was aware that
only the most intangible barriers held between them; an impulse that
grew in his throbbing brain seemed driving him forward to destroy these
barriers; to stand before her as he was; to emerge from his mental
solitude and claim her companionship. What was marriage made for, if not
for this?

"Look here," he said, wheeling on her suddenly. "Do you still love me;
do you still care as you once did?" He seized one of her hands in his.

"You hurt me, Marsh!" she said, drawing away from him.

He dropped her hand and with a smothered oath turned from her.

"You women don't know what love is!" he snarled. "Talk about a woman
giving up; talk about her sacrifices--i