exhaustion of wretchedness following the violence of a swiftly
sweeping and cyclonic storm. On the whole, her attitude was reassuring,
he thought, and in any event a bold course was best. So he entered the
room, smiling.

CHAPTER XV

"You are looking very serious, dearest," he declared in a tone of
assumed lightness, marred by a cumbersome quality which made it
grotesque. As his voice broke on her reverie, his wife started, then sat
gazing at him with a sphinx-like expression in her eyes, which he found
it hard to endure. But he went boldly on: "Very serious indeed for a
bride of a month's standing."

Still she did not answer and under the steadiness of her silent gaze,
his momentary reassurance wilted. He had foreseen the possibility of
encountering a woman turned Valkyrie, but was unaccoutred to face this
enigmatical calm.

Standing here now with those cool eyes upon him, a new and cumulative
apprehension tortured him. What if, with a swift determination, his wife
had decided upon yet another course: that of simulating until her own
chosen moment ignorance of what she knew: of drawing him more deeply
into the snare before she confronted him with her discovery?

But as he was weighing these possibilities, Conscience broke the
silence. She even smiled in a mirthless fashion--and the man began to
hope again.

"I _was_ serious," she said. "I was reproaching myself."

"Reproaching yourself--" the husband arched his brows--"for what?"

She responded slowly as if weighing her words.

"For many things. You have devoted years of your life to my father and
myself--and asked nothing. After a long while I consented to marry
you--though I couldn't give myself freely or without reserve."

He bent over a little and spoke with a grave dignity.

"You have given me everything," he said quietly, "except the admission
that you love me. I told you before we were married that I had no fear
and no misgiving on that point. I shall win your love, and meanwhile I
can be patient."

She let the implied boast of word and manner pass without debate and
went on self-accusingly:

"You've treated yourself very much like an old house being torn to
pieces and done over to satisfy the whims and eccentricities of a new
tenant."

Tollman affected a manner meant to be debonair, but his thought was
divided and uncontrollable impulse drew his glance shiftily to the
table.

"Well, suppose that I have tried to change myself, why sho