n a maze of darkness and that you could show me the way out."

"I hope I may," the old lady murmured. "I shall be very glad to, if I
can. What has gone wrong?"

"Everything," she returned, her brown eyes filling with mist. "Of course
it's my husband. It always is, isn't it?"

[Sidenote: Running Away]

"I don't know why it should be. Is he cruel to you?"

"No, that is, he doesn't beat me or anything of that sort. He isn't
coarse. But there's a refined sort of cruelty that hurts worse. I--I
couldn't bear it any longer, and so I came away."

"Was he willing for you to come?"

"I didn't ask him. I just came."

Madame's glasses dropped from her aristocratic nose in astonishment.
"Why, my dear Mrs. Lee! How could you!"

"Edith, please, if you will," she answered, wiping her eyes. Then she
laughed bitterly. "Don't be kind to me, for I'm not used to it and it
weakens my armour of self-defence. Tell me I'm horrid and have done with
it."

"Poor child," breathed Madame. "Poor, dear child!"

For a few moments the young woman bit her lips, keeping back the tears
by evident effort. Then, having gained her self-control, she went on.

"I'm twenty-eight, now," she said. "I remember mother used to say she
always had her suspicions of a woman who was willing to tell the truth
about her age."

"Sounds just like her," commented Madame, taking up a dainty lavender
silk stocking that had "run down" from the hem.

"I've been married six years, but it seems like twenty. Almost from the
first, there has been friction between us, but nobody knows it, except
you--unless he's told his friends, and I don't think he'd do that. We've
both had a preference for doing the family laundry work on the
premises."

[Sidenote: Marital Troubles]

"What?" queried Madame, missing the allusion.

"Not washing our soiled linen in public," Edith explained. "While I live
with my husband as his wife, we stand together before the world as far
as it is in my power to manage it. I do not intentionally criticise him
to anyone, nor permit anyone to criticise him. I endeavour to look
ahead, protect him against his own weakness or folly, and, as far as a
woman's tact and thought may do, shield him from the consequences of his
own mistakes. I lie for him whenever necessary or even advisable. I have
tried to be, for six years, shelter, strength, comfort, courage. And,"
she concluded bitterly, "I've failed."

"How so?"

"We live in the same house, but al