no merciful shadows in the room: daylight poured in at the
windows and revealed Helen standing with hands clasped before her and
gazing with wide eyes at Miriam's pale face, her parted lips, her
horrified amazement.

"George?" she asked huskily.

"Yes."

"But why?"

"Why does one marry?"

"Oh, tell me, Helen! You can't have loved him."

"Perhaps he loved me."

"But--that night! Have you forgotten it?"

"No. I remember."

"So do I! I dream about it! Helen, tell me. What was it? There's
Zebedee. And it was me that George loved."

Helen spoke sharply. "He didn't love you. You bewitched him. He loves
me."

"You haven't told me everything."

"There is no reason why I should."

Miriam spoke on a sob. "You needn't be unkind. And where's your ring?
You haven't said you love him. You're not really married, are you?"

"Yes, I am."

Crying without stint, Miriam went blindly to the window.

"I wish I hadn't come--!"

"You mustn't be unhappy. I'm not. It isn't very polite to George--or
me."

"But when--when you think of that night--Oh! You must be miserable."

"Then you should be."

"I?"

"It was your doing. You tormented him. You played with him. You liked to
draw him on and push him back. You turned a man into a--into what we saw
that night. George isn't the only man who can be changed into a beast
when--when he meets Circe! With me--" Her voice broke with her quickened
breathing. Her indignation was no longer for her own maimed life: it was
for George, who had been used lightly as a plaything, broken, and given
to her for mending.

For a long time Miriam cried, and did not speak, and when she turned to
ask a question Helen had almost forgotten her; for all her pity had gone
out to George and beautified him and made him dear.

"Tell me one thing," Miriam said earnestly. "It hadn't anything to do
with me?"

"What?"

"Marrying him. You see, I fainted, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Something might have happened then."

"It did."

"What was it?"

"He fell in love with me!" She laughed. "It's possible, because it
happened! Otherwise, of course, neither of us could believe it! Oh,
don't be silly. Don't look miserable."

"I can't help it. It's my fault. It's my fault if Zebedee is unhappy and
if you are. Yes, it is, because if I hadn't--Still, I don't know why you
married him."

"I think it was meant to be. If we look back it seems as if it must have
been." It was not Helen who looked through the wi