strangers.... And then you
see he has agreed to nearly everything I had wanted. It wasn't only the
personal things--I was anxious about those silly girls--the strikers. I
didn't want them to be badly treated. It distressed me to think of them.
I don't think you know how it distressed me. And he--he gave way upon
all that. He says I may talk to him about the business, about the way we
do our business--the kindness of it I mean. And this is why I am back
here. Where else _could_ I be?"

"No," said Mr. Brumley still with the utmost reluctance. "I see.
Only----"

He paused downcast and she waited for him to speak.

"Only it isn't what I expected, Lady Harman. I didn't think that matters
could be settled by such arrangements. It's sane, I know, it's
comfortable and kindly. But I thought--Oh! I thought of different
things, quite different things from all this. I thought of you who are
so beautiful caught in a loveless passionless world. I thought of the
things there might be for you, the beautiful and wonderful things of
which you are deprived.... Never mind what I thought! Never mind! You've
made your choice. But I thought that you didn't love, that you couldn't
love--this man. It seemed to me that you felt too--that to live as you
are doing--with him--was a profanity. Something--I'd give everything I
have, everything I am, to save you from. Because--because I care.... I
misunderstood you. I suppose you can--do what you are doing."

He jumped to his feet as he spoke and walked three paces away and turned
to utter his last sentences. She too stood up.

"Mr. Brumley," she said weakly, "I don't understand. What do you mean? I
have to do what I am doing. He--he is my husband."

He made a gesture of impatience. "Do you understand nothing of _love_?"
he cried.

She pressed her lips together and remained still and silent, dark
against the casement window.

There came a sound of tapping from the room above. Three taps and again
three taps.

Lady Harman made a little gesture as though she would put this sound
aside.

"Love," she said at last. "It comes to some people. It happens. It
happens to young people.... But when one is married----"

Her voice fell almost to a whisper. "One must not think of it," she
said. "One must think of one's husband and one's duty. Life cannot begin
again, Mr. Brumley."

The taps were repeated, a little more urgently.

"That is my husband," she said.

She hesitated through a little paus