“No; stay,” replied Clytie slowly, without turning her head. “I wanted you to come. I don't know why. How did you find out I was here?” “Mrs. Gurkins caught me in the passage. She said you were staying some time. I knocked at your door, but you did not answer, so I looked in, saw you asleep there. I could not resist the temptation of coming nearer so as to see your face. You look so done up, you must go to bed early and have a good night's rest.” “Ah, Kent! How like you!” said Clytie, looking quickly round at him. Womanlike, she was pleased that he had not expressed wonderment at her presence in the house, and beset her with abrupt questions, but tried instead with delicate sympathy to put her at her ease. “Can you guess why I am here, Kent?” she asked in a low voice. “I dare not try,” he replied. “I have finally parted from my husband.” “Good God! Clytie, what do you mean?” he cried, with a leap at his heart, followed by a feeling of great pity for the woman he loved, an aching sense of the irony of things. “It has been a misunderstanding. It will all be cleared up in time,” he continued unsteadily. Clytie shook her head. “No; thank God, this is the end. See my hand: that which was there I drew off to-day for the first time. It shall never be there again.” “Clytie, my dear friend Clytie!” said Kent, very much moved. “What can I say to you? My heart aches for all that you must have suffered. You told me yesterday your life was not what I thought it to be, for I fancied you happy, with all around you to make the world bright and glorious. I do not know what to think now. Is there no hope for your happiness?” “Oh, no, Kent, not that way. Let me tell you at once what I can. Don't judge me severely. I did what lay in my nature to do. I bore things that nearly drove me mad, although perhaps many other women would not have looked on them as burdens. But my marriage was a mistake--for both of us. And then--oh, how can I tell you? Something happened to-day, the climax, rendering further life there impossible. Oh, I can't speak or even think of it!” Her voice ended in a moan and a shivering catch of her breath, and she covered her face with her hands. Kent leaped to his feet quivering with a sudden intuition. “Clytie, you have been wronged far more than by mere misunderstanding. Did he dare----” “Yes--yes. Don't think of it. It's all over.” “But I must think of it. It is like a red-hot iron in my heart. I can't bear it. All last night I lay awake thinking of your unhappiness, tortured by regrets, hating the man who made your life a weariness to you. I never thought of this. The coward! The brute! Oh, my God!” And as he strode up and down the room, with set lips and clenched hands, Clytie looked at him half-wonderingly. She had never seen her calm, strong Kent so moved by passion. She went up to him, with natural impulse, and put her hand on his shoulder and looked into his face.