's better than this; anything that's clean and decent. I'd
despise myself if I stayed on as your wife, feeling as I do. It was a
mistake in the beginning, our marriage."

"Nevertheless," Fyfe said slowly, "I'm afraid it's a mistake you'll have
to abide by--for a time. All that you say may be true, although I don't
admit it myself. Offhand, I'd say you were simply trying to welch on a
fair bargain. I'm not going to let you do it blindly, all wrought up to
a pitch where you can scarcely think coherently. If you are fully
determined to break away from me, you owe it to us both to be sure of
what you're doing before you act. I'm going to talk plain. You can
believe it and disdain it if you please. If you were leaving me for a
man, a real man, I think I could bring myself to make it easy for you
and wish you luck. But you're not. He's--"

"Can't we leave him out of it?" she demanded. "I want to get away from
you both. Can you understand that? It doesn't help you any to pick _him_
to pieces."

"No, but it might help you, if I could rip off that swathing of
idealization you've wrapped around him," Fyfe observed patiently. "It's
not a job I have much stomach for however, even if you were willing to
let me try. But to come back. You've got to stick it out with me,
Stella. You'll hate me for the constraint, I suppose. But until--until
things shape up differently--you'll understand what I'm talking about
by and by, I think--you've got to abide by the bargain you made with me.
I couldn't force you to stay, I know. But there's one hold you can't
break--not if I know you at all."

"What is that?" she asked icily.

"The kid's," he murmured.

Stella buried her face in her hands for a minute.

"I'd forgotten--I'd forgotten," she whispered.

"You understand, don't you?" he said hesitatingly. "If you leave--I keep
our boy."

"Oh, you're devilish--to use a club like that," she cried. "You know I
wouldn't part from my baby--the only thing I've got that's worth
having."

"He's worth something to me too," Fyfe muttered. "A lot more than you
think, maybe. I'm not trying to club you. There's nothing in it for me.
But for him; well, he needs you. It isn't his fault he's here, or that
you're unhappy. I've got to protect him, see that he gets a fair shake.
I can't see anything to it but for you to go on being Mrs. Jack Fyfe
until such time as you get back to a normal poise. Then it will be time
enough to try and work out some arrangem