ry man who buys the
halfpenny paper and calls himself a politician. My friends heap abuse
upon me, my enemies derision. I cannot hold my position in this new
Cabinet. I had gone too far for compromise. I wonder if you quite
understand what has happened?"

"Oh, I have heard too much," she cried. "Spare me the rest."

He continued as though he had not heard her.

"Men who have been my intimate associates for many years, and whose
friendship was dear to me, cross the road to avoid: meeting me, day by
day I am besieged with visitors and letters from the suffering people
to whom my word had been pledged, imploring me for some explanation, for
one word of denial. Life has become a hell for me, a pestilent, militant
hell! Yet, Lucille, unless you break faith with me I make no complaint.
I am content."

"I am very sorry," she said. "I do not think that you have properly
understood me. I have never made you any promise."

For a moment he lost control of himself. She shrank back at the blaze
of indignation, half scornful, half incredulous, which lit up his clear,
grey eyes.

"It is a lie!" he answered. "Between you and me it can be no question
of words. You were always very careful of your pledges, but there are
limits even to your caution--as to my forbearance. A woman does not ask
a man who is pleading to her for her love to give up everything else
he cares for in life without hope of reward. It is monstrous! I never
sought you under false pretenses. I never asked you for your friendship.
I wanted you. I told you so plainly. You won't deny that you gave me
hope--encouraged me? You can't even deny that I am within my rights if I
claim now at this instant the reward for my apostasy."

Her hands were suddenly locked in his. She felt herself being drawn into
his arms. With a desperate effort she avoided his embrace. He still held
her left wrist, and his face was dark with passion.

"Let me go!" she pleaded.

"Not I!" he answered, with an odd, choked little laugh. "You belong to
me. I have paid the price. I, too, am amongst the long list of those
poor fools who have sold their gods and their honour for a woman's kiss.
But I will not be left wholly destitute. You shall pay me for what I
have lost."

"Oh, you are mad!" she answered. "How could you have deceived yourself
so? Don't you know that my husband is in London?"

"The man who calls himself Mr. Sabin?" he answered roughly. "What has
that to do with it? You are livi