a friend.
I couldn't respect him as----" but no, she wouldn't seem to beg for
mercy; she broke off and spoke again in a much fiercer tone. "Perhaps
though, as you've told me what I mustn't do, you'll tell me what I can.
_You_ won't come out with me, you shun me like a criminal, you only
talk to me in front of Lily. Do you think I can live like that? Do
you really think I'm going out alone, alone with the dog, and everybody
saying: 'There's poor Mrs. Brett; she's in disgrace; he's punishing
her'? No, I'd rather let them see me with Mr. Alison and let them
think it's I who am avoiding you!"

He looked at her as at some strange being in his house. "Helena," he
said, "this can't be you who's speaking."

"Isn't it?" she laughed. Then calming herself, "Perhaps then," she
added, borrowing some of his irony, "if I'm not to go out with Mr.
Alison, you'll tell me what I _am_ to do."

"What do most wives do," he asked, "whose husbands are away? They
don't rush about everywhere with artist-wasters; they do some work or
something."

It was a vague ending, but it lent Helena her chance.

"Exactly what I wanted you to say," she cried. "I don't want to do
anything again without your leave; but now I _will_ do some work. I'll
live my own life, if you don't want me to share yours."

"What do you mean, Helena?" he asked. This was a new mood.

"I mean," she said surprised at her own calmness, "that Blatchleys have
offered me two hundred pounds advance for my new novel. I said I must
ask you first, but now I shall accept it."

"I utterly forbid it," he cried wildly and leapt to his feet. They
were both standing now.

"What?" she exclaimed. "Forbid? What do you forbid? How can you
forbid? You could have, in the old days; I wouldn't have done anything
if you had asked me not; but now--how can you forbid?"

"I do," he cried excitedly. "I utterly forbid it." He was gaining
time to think.

There was a pause while they stood facing one another.

"Do you think," he said presently, "apart from all that's happened,
this horrible publicity, my friends all chaffing me, I ever would have
married the sort of woman you propose becoming? I wanted a wife to
look after me, to be a nice companion; I didn't want a woman-writer. I
hate that type of woman. You were a simple, jolly girl when I first
married you, and now--writing this popular clap-trap!--you must see,
Helena, it isn't fair?" His stern air melted almost to appe