had no premonition of what to
expect from her.

"You were very brutal to me," she said at length.

"I know it; and I did not intend to be. The words came."

"You had me at your mercy; and showed me little--a very little at first.
Afterward, none."

"The words came," he repeated; "I'm sick with self-contempt, I tell
you."

She set her white-gloved elbow on the window sill and rested her chin in
her palm.

"That--money," she said with an effort. "You set--some--aside for me."

"Half," he nodded calmly.

"Why?"

He was silent.

"_Why_? I did not ask for it? There was nothing in the--the legal
proceedings to lead you to believe that I desired it; was there?"

"No."

"Well, then," her breath came unsteadily, "what was there in _me_ to
make you think I would accept it?"

He did not reply.

"Answer me. This is the time to answer me."

"The answer is simple enough," he said in a low voice. "Together we had
made a failure of partnership. When that partnership was dissolved,
there remained the joint capital to be divided. And I divided it. Why
not?"

"That capital was yours in the beginning; not mine. What I had of my own
you never controlled; and I took it with me when I went."

"It was very little," he said.

"What of that? Did that concern you? Did you think I would have accepted
anything from you? A thousand times I have been on the point of
notifying you through attorney that the deposit now standing in my name
is at your disposal."

"Why didn't you notify me then?" he asked, reddening to the temples.

"Because--I did not wish to hurt you--by doing it that way. . . . And I
had not the courage to say it kindly over my own signature. That is why,
Captain Selwyn."

And, as he remained silent: "That is what I had to say; not
all--because--I wish to--to thank you for offering it. . . . You did not
have very much, either; and you divided what you had. So I thank
you--and I return it.". . . The tension forced her to attempt a laugh.
"So we stand once more on equal terms; unless you have anything of mine
to return--"

"I have your photograph," he said.

The silence lasted until he straightened up and, rubbing the fog from
the window glass, looked out.

"We are in the Park," he remarked, turning toward her.

"Yes; I did not know how long it might take to explain matters. You are
free of me now whenever you wish."

He picked up the telephone, hesitated: "Home?" he inquired with an
effort. And at