an unpleasant look. No
denying it. She got entangled somehow. But I think you had better
believe that she pulled up just in time.'

'I have no love for her left,' he went on in a despairing voice. 'It
all perished in those frightful days. I tried hard to think that I
still loved her. I kept writing letters--but they meant nothing--or
they only meant that I was driven half crazy by wretchedness. I had
rather we lived on as we have been doing. It's miserable enough for me,
God knows; but it would be worse to try and behave to her as if I could
forget everything. I know her explanation won't satisfy me. Whatever it
is I shall still suspect her. I don't know that the child is mine. It
may be. Perhaps as it grows up there will be a likeness to help me to
make sure. But what a life! Every paltry trifle will make me uneasy;
and if I discovered any fresh deceit I should do something terrible.
You don't know how near I was--'

He shuddered and hid his face.

'The Othello business won't do,' said Lady Horrocks not unkindly. 'You
couldn't have gone on together, of course; you had to part for a time.
Well, that's all over; take it as something that couldn't be helped.
You were behaving absurdly, you know; I told you plainly; I guessed
there'd be trouble. You oughtn't to have married at all, that's the
fact; it would be better for most of us if we kept out of it. Some
marry for a good reason, some for a bad, and mostly it all comes to the
same in the end. But there, never mind. Pull yourself together, dear
boy. It's all nonsense about not caring for her. Of course you're
eating your heart out for want of her. And I'll tell you what I think:
it's very likely Monica was pulled up just in time by discovering--you
understand?--that she was more your wife than any one else's. Something
tells me that's how it was. Just try to look at it in that way. If the
child lives she'll be different. She has sowed her wild oats--why
shouldn't a woman as well as a man? Go down to Clevedon and forgive
her. You're an honest man, and it isn't every woman--never mind. I
could tell you stories about people--but you wouldn't care to hear
them. Just take things with a laugh--we _all_ have to. Life's as you
take it: all gloom or moderately shiny.'

With much more to the same solacing effect. For the time Widdowson was
perchance a trifle comforted; at all events, he went away with a sense
of gratitude to Lady Horrocks. And when he had left the house he
re