," said Strickland.

Stroeve picked himself up. He noticed that his wife had
remained perfectly still, and to be made ridiculous before her
increased his humiliation. His spectacles had tumbled off in
the struggle, and he could not immediately see them.
She picked them up and silently handed them to him. He seemed
suddenly to realise his unhappiness, and though he knew he was
making himself still more absurd, he began to cry. He hid his
face in his hands. The others watched him without a word.
They did not move from where they stood.

"Oh, my dear," he groaned at last, "how can you be so cruel?"

"I can't help myself, Dirk," she answered.

"I've worshipped you as no woman was ever worshipped before.
If in anything I did I displeased you, why didn't you tell me,
and I'd have changed. I've done everything I could for you."

She did not answer. Her face was set, and he saw that he was
only boring her. She put on a coat and her hat. She moved
towards the door, and he saw that in a moment she would be
gone. He went up to her quickly and fell on his knees before
her, seizing her hands: he abandoned all self-respect.

"Oh, don't go, my darling. I can't live without you; I shall
kill myself. If I've done anything to offend you I beg you to
forgive me. Give me another chance. I'll try harder still to
make you happy."

"Get up, Dirk. You're making yourself a perfect fool."

He staggered to his feet, but still he would not let her go.

"Where are you going?" he said hastily. "You don't know what
Strickland's place is like. You can't live there. It would
be awful."

"If I don't care, I don't see why you should."

"Stay a minute longer. I must speak. After all, you can't
grudge me that."

"What is the good? I've made up my mind. Nothing that you can
say will make me alter it."

He gulped, and put his hand to his heart to ease its painful beating.

"I'm not going to ask you to change your mind, but I want you
to listen to me for a minute. It's the last thing I shall
ever ask you. Don't refuse me that."

She paused, looking at him with those reflective eyes of hers,
which now were so different to him. She came back into the
studio and leaned against the table.

"Well?"

Stroeve made a great effort to collect himself.

"You must be a little reasonable. You can't live on air,
you know. Strickland hasn't got a penny."

"I know."

"You'll suffer the most awful privations. You know w