I knew by her manner that she was not telling me the truth, but I went on quietly:     

       “If you expected me, why did you cry out when I came to the door?”      

       She tried to draw her hand away, but I held it fast, closing, my fingers upon it with even brutal strength.     

       “Why did you cry out?”      

       “You—you looked so strange, so cruel.”      

       “So cruel!”      

       “Yes. You frightened me—you frightened me horribly.”      

       She began suddenly to sob, like one completely overstrained. I lifted her up in the bed, put my arms round her, and made her lean against me. I was strangely moved.     

       “I frightened you! How can that be?” I said, trying to control a passion of mingled love and anger that filled my breast. “You know that I love you. You must know that. In all our short married life have I ever been even momentarily unkind to you? Let us be frank with one another. Our lives have changed lately. One of us has altered. You cannot say that it is I.”      

       She only continued to sob bitterly in my arms. I held her closer.     

       “Let us be frank with one another,” I went on. “For God’s sake let us have no barriers between us. Margot, look into my eyes and tell me—are you growing tired of me?”      

       She turned her head away, but I spoke more sternly:     

       “You shall be truthful. I will have no more subterfuge. Look me in the face. You did love me once?”      

       “Yes, yes,” she whispered in a choked voice.     

       “What have I done, then, to alienate you? Have I ever hurt you, ever shown a lack of sympathy, ever neglected you?”      

       “Never—never.”      

       “Yet you have changed to me since—since——” I paused a moment, trying to recall when I had first noticed her altered demeanour.     

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