'I shall never play Clairette again,' Kate said sadly. 'I've lost my figure and the part requires a waist.' 'You might get your waist again,' Dick said, and the words seemed to him extraordinarily silly, but he had to say something. 'If I could only get to work again,' she muttered to herself, and then turning to Dick-- 'Dick, if I could get to work again; any part would do; it doesn't matter how small, just to give me something to think about, that's all, to keep my mind off it. If the baby had not died I should have had her to look after and that would have done just as well as a part. But I've disgraced you in company; I don't blame you, you couldn't have me in it, and I couldn't bring myself to sing in that opera.' 'Yes, you would only break out again, Kate. Those jealous fits are terrible. You think you could restrain yourself, but you couldn't; and all that would come of a row between you and Mrs. Forest would be that I should lose my job.' 'I know, Dick, I know,' Kate cried painfully, 'but I promise you that I never will again. You may go where you please and do what you please. I will never say a word to you again.' 'I'm sure you believe all that you say, Kate, but I cannot get you a job. I may hear of something. Meanwhile----' 'Meanwhile I shall have to stay here and alone and no way of escaping from the hours, those long dreary hours, no way but one. Dick, I'm sorry they did not keep me in the asylum, it would have been better for both of us if they had; and if I could go back there again, if you will take me back, I will try to deceive the doctors.' 'You mean, Kate, that you would play the mad woman? I doubt if any woman could do it sufficiently well to deceive the doctors. There was an Italian woman,' and they talked of the great Italian actress for some time and then Dick said: 'Well, Kate, I must be about my business. I'm sorry to leave you.' 'No, Dick, you're not.' 'I am, dear, in a way. But if I hear of anything----' and he left the house knowing that there was no further hope for himself. He was tied to her and might be killed by her in his sleep, but that would not matter. What did matter was the thought that was always at the back of his mind, that she was alone in that Islington lodging-house craving for drink, striving to resist it, falling back into drink and might be coming down raving to the theatre to insult him before the company. Insult him before the company! That had been done, she had done her worst, and he was indifferent whether she came again, only she must not meet Mrs. Forest. On the whole he felt that his sorrow was with Kate herself rather than himself or with Mrs. Forest. 'God only knows,' he said as he rushed down the stairs, 'what will become of her.'