e, and little dark blinking
eyes.

"Sorry the room's in such a mess. Don't often have the pleasure of
seeing a lady. I was asleep; generally am at this time of year!"

The bristly red moustache was contorted as though his lips were smiling.

Mrs. Pendyce murmured vaguely.

It seemed to her that nothing of this was real, but all some horrid
dream. A clap of thunder made her cover her ears.

Bellew walked to the window, glanced at the sky, and came back to the
hearth. His little burning eyes seemed to look her through and through.
'If I don't speak at once,' she thought, 'I never shall speak at all.'

"I've come," she began, and with those words she lost her fright;
her voice, that had been so uncertain hitherto, regained its trick of
speech; her eyes, all pupil, stared dark and gentle at this man who
had them all in his power--"I've come to tell you something, Captain
Bellew!"

The figure by the hearth bowed, and her fright, like some evil bird,
came guttering down on her again. It was dreadful, it was barbarous that
she, that anyone, should have to speak of such things; it was barbarous
that men and women should so misunderstand each other, and have so
little sympathy and consideration; it was barbarous that she, Margery
Pendyce, should have to talk on this subject that must give them both
such pain. It was all so mean and gross and common! She took out her
handkerchief and passed it over her lips.

"Please forgive me for speaking. Your wife has given my son up, Captain
Bellew!"

Bellew did not move.

"She does not love him; she told me so herself! He will never see her
again!"

How hateful, how horrible, how odious!

And still Bellew did not speak, but stood devouring her with his little
eyes; and how long this went on she could not tell.

He turned his back suddenly, and leaned against the mantelpiece.

Mrs. Pendyce passed her hand over her brow to get rid of a feeling of
unreality.

"That is all," she said.

Her voice sounded to herself unlike her own.

'If that is really all,' she thought, 'I suppose I must get up and go!'
And it flashed through her mind: 'My poor dress will be ruined!'

Bellew turned round.

"Will you have some tea?"

Mrs. Pendyce smiled a pale little smile.

"No, thank you; I don't think I could drink any tea."

"I wrote a letter to your husband."

"Yes."

"He didn't answer it."

"No."

Mrs. Pendyce saw him staring at her, and a desperate struggle began
within