ack to the
first days of estrangement between her husband and herself. Almost
before she realised it, she found herself struggling against the
tenderness which still survived, which seemed at that moment to be
tearing at her heart-strings. He had ceased to care, she told herself.
It was all too apparent that he had ceased to care. He was amusing
himself elsewhere. Her little impulsive note had not won even a kind
word from him. Her appeals, on one excuse or another, had been
disregarded. She had lost her place in his life, thrown it away, she
told herself bitterly. And in its stead--what! A new fear of Draconmeyer
was stealing over her. He presented himself suddenly as an evil genius.
She went back through the last few days. Her brain seemed unexpectedly
clear, her perceptions unerring. She saw with hateful distinctness how
he had forced this money upon her, how he had encouraged her all the
time to play beyond her means. She realised the cunning with which he
had left that last bundle of notes in her keeping. Well, there the facts
were. She owed him now four thousand pounds. She had no money of her
own, she was already overdrawn with her allowance. There was no chance
of paying him. She realised, with a little shudder, that he did not want
payment, a realisation which had come to her dimly from the first, but
which she had pushed away simply because she had felt sure of winning.
Now there was the price to be paid! She leaned further out of the
window. Away to her left the glow over the mountains was becoming
stained with the faintest of pinks. She looked at it long, with mute and
critical appreciation. She swept with her eyes the line of violet
shadows from the mountain-tops to the sea-board, where the pale lights
of Bordighera still flickered. She looked up again from the dark blue
sea to the paling stars. It was all wonderful--theatrical, perhaps, but
wonderful--and how she hated it! She stood up before the window and with
her clenched fists she beat against the sills. Those long days and
feverish nights through which she had passed slowly unfolded themselves.
In those few moments she seemed to taste again the dull pain of constant
disappointment, the hectic thrills of occasional winnings, the strange,
dull inertia which had taken the place of resignation. She looked into
the street below. How long would she live afterwards, she wondered, if
she threw herself down! She began even to realise the state of mind
which bre