to her husband. I don't know what you thought, but you certainly tried
to give the impression that our harmless conversations meant something
more. That there was an intrigue going on. Did you really think this,
may I ask?"

"Yes, I did," she said, in a low voice, looking down.

"Well, first allow me to assure you that you are entirely wrong. It was
completely false. Can't you see now how terrible it was to suggest these
absolute lies as facts to her husband? Did you write the letters?"

"Yes, I did; I was in despair. I couldn't think of anything else to stop
it."

Nigel gave a sigh of relief.

"Thank God you've admitted it, Mary. I'm glad of that. At least if we
have the truth between us, we know where we are."

"Did she--did she--tell you?"

"She knows nothing whatever about it," said Nigel. "She has never been
told, and never will be. You need worry no more about the letters. Her
husband gave them to me this afternoon, and I destroyed them before him.
And he doesn't know who wrote them."

Nigel forgot that he had told Percy or did not choose to say.

"They're completely wiped out, and will be forgotten by the person to
whom you sent them. The whole affair is cleared up and finished and
regarded as an unfortunate act of folly."

"Oh, Nigel!" Mary burst into tears. "You're very good."

"Now listen, Mary ... I can't endure to stay with you any more at
present."

"What!" she screamed.

"If I continue this existence with you I shall grow to hate it. I wish
to go away for a time."

"You want to leave me!"

"Unless I go now for a time to try and get over this act of yours, I
tell you frankly that I shall leave you altogether."

He spoke sternly.

"If you will have the decency not to oppose my wishes, I will go away
for six or seven weeks, and when I come back we'll try and take up our
life again a little differently. You must be less jealous and exacting
and learn to control yourself. I will then try to forget and we'll try
to get on better together. But I must go. My nerves won't stand it any
longer."

She sobbed, leaning her head on the back of an arm-chair.

"If you agree to this without the slightest objection," said Nigel, "I
will come and join you and the children somewhere in the first week in
August. Till then I'm going abroad, but I don't exactly know where. You
shall have my address, and, of course, I shall write. I may possibly go
to Venice. I have a friend there."

She still said not