. We danced together almost all the evening. Then he found out
where I lived, and used to be always coming to see me. My brother never
liked him. He said to me often, 'Why do you encourage that unprincipled
cad? I'm certain there's a screw loose about him!' And I wasn't in love
with Roger--not really--for one moment. But I _think_ he was in love with
me--yes, I'm sure he was--at first. And he excited and interested me. I
was proud, too, of taking him away from other girls, who were always
running after him. And my sister-in-law was just mad to get rid of me!
Don't you understand?"

"Of course I do!"

Her eyelids wavered a little under the emotion of his tone.

"Well, then, we got married. My brother tried to get out of him what his
money-affairs were. But he always evaded everything. He talked a great
deal about this rich sister, and she did send him a wedding present. But
he never showed me her letter, and that was the last we ever heard of
her while I knew him...."

Her voice dropped. She sat looking at the fire--a grey, pale woman, from
whom light and youth had momentarily gone out.

"Well, it's a hateful story--and as common!--as common as dirt. We began
to quarrel almost immediately. He was jealous and tyrannical, and I
always had a quick temper. I found that he drank, that he told me all
sorts of lies about his past life, that he presently only cared about me
as--well, as his mistress!"--and again she faced Ellesborough with hard,
insistent eyes--"that he was hopelessly in debt--a gambler--and
everything else. When the baby came, I could only get the wife of a
neighbouring settler to come and look after me. And Roger behaved so
abominably to her that she went home when the baby was a week old--and I
was left to manage for myself. Then when baby was three months old, she
caught whooping-cough, and had bronchitis on the top. I had a few pounds
of my own, and I gave them to Roger to go in to Winnipeg and bring out a
doctor and medicines. He drank all the money on the way--that I found out
afterwards--he was a week away instead of two days--and the baby died.
When he came back he told me a lie about having been ill. But I never
lived with him--as a wife--after that. Then, of course, he hated me, and
one night he nearly killed me. Next morning he apologized--said that he
loved me passionately--and that kind of stuff--that I was cruel to
him--and what could he do to make up? So then I suggested that he should
go aw