“I haven’t really, Eve. I’ve crawled about. But to-day I got talking, and——” “Why,” said Eve, “should I believe you? What does it matter whether I do or not? Day in, day out, I try to do what you want. I’m sick and tired of trying to do your will. Yet I keep on because it amuses you—amuses you to see me cramp my style. God knows why. It’s a funny form of love. But that’s by the way. I try. I sweat and grunt and slave—for peace in our time. . . . And you stand over me and keep my nose to the stone. . . . I’m not like that. It wouldn’t amuse me to put you through the hoop. Only one wretched favour I’ve ever asked: and that I asked because I loved you.” “I know,” said Broke. “I’m sorry. I’ve no excuse. But don’t lay on so hard, Eve. You know it doesn’t amuse me to——” “Then why do you do it?” said Eve. “Don’t say ‘Out of love,’ or I shall burst.” “I do what I do,” said Broke, “because I want you to get the most out of Life.” “Oh, let us pray.” Jeremy bit his lip. “You do it,” continued his wife, “to assert your authority. If the money was yours and not mine, you’d have the whip-hand. As it isn’t, you play the priest, trade on my better feelings, take advantage of my love—I didn’t marry you for that, you know.” “You will please,” said Jeremy, “take that back at once.” His wife stared. “You’re out for trouble,” she said. “Well, here it is—hot and strong. I said I didn’t marry you for that. Well, I don’t pay you for that, either.” Without a word, Jeremy left the room. Ten minutes later he passed out of the house. * * * * * For month after halting month Eve carried on. The girl hoped desperately that Jeremy would return. If he did, he should find her soul swept and garnished. She dressed soberly, spent so much and no more, rose always at eight. She kept the same state, but entertained the less fortunate, was always lending her cars. When she saw some object she fancied, she asked the price and gave the amount to charity. Herein she was scrupulous. A chinchilla stole attracted her very much. Still, her sables were perfect. Besides . . . After careful reflection she decided that but for Jeremy’s teaching she would have bought the fur and wrote a cheque for the sick for four hundred pounds. She made no search for her husband—not because she was proud, but because she felt that it was vain. If he was coming he would come. If he was not . . . Had she stumbled across him, she would have begged and prayed. But look she would not. She had no doubt at all that she was up against Fate. And Jeremy had always said that Fate didn’t like you to try to force his hand. ‘So sure as you do, my lady, you lose your labour.’ She often wondered why she had lost her head that bitter afternoon. After all, to exceed a limit was not a grave offence. He was careful in traffic, no doubt: and then, slipping into the Park, he hurried along. Besides, he was only hastening back to her. . . . And he had been so humble.