“I have come, as I said I would,” she said, after a long, tense silence. Her voice was low, huskier than ever, but without a tremor of excitement. “You did not say you would wait for me here, but I knew you would do so. The hour of reckoning has come. We must pay, both of us. I am not frightened by your silence, James, nor am I afraid of what you may say or do. First of all, it is expected that Frederic will die. Dr Hodder has proclaimed it. He is a great surgeon. He ought to know. But he doesn't know--do you hear? He does not know. I shall not let him die.” “One moment, if you please,” said her husband coldly. “You may spare me the theatrics. Moreover, we will not discuss Frederic. What we have to say to each other has little to do with that poor boy downstairs. This is _your_ hour of reckoning, not his. Bear that------” “You are very much mistaken,” she interrupted, her gaze growing more fixed than before. “He is a part of our reckoning. He is the one great character in this miserable, unlooked-for tragedy. Will you be so kind as to draw those curtains? And do me the honour to allow me to sit in your presence.” There was infinite scorn in her voice. “I am very tired. I have not been idle. Every minute of my waking hours belongs to your son, James Brood, but I owe this half-hour to you. You shall know the truth about me, as I know it about you. I did not count on this hour ever being a part of my life, but it has to be, and I shall face it without weeping over what might have been. Will you draw the curtains?” He hesitated a moment and then jerked the curtains together, shutting out the pitiless glare. “Will you be seated there?” he said quietly, pointing to a chair at the end of the table. She switched on the light in the big lamp, but instead of taking the chair indicated, sank into one on the opposite side of the table, with the mellow light full upon her lovely, serious face. “Sit there,” she said, signifying the chair he had requested her to take. “Please sit down,” she went on impatiently, as he continued to regard her forbiddingly from his position near the window. “I shall be better able to say what I have to say standing,” he said significantly. “Do you expect me to plead with you for forgiveness?” she inquired, with an unmistakable look of surprise. “You may save yourself the humiliation of such----” “But you are gravely mistaken,” she interrupted. “I shall ask nothing of you.” “Then we need not prolong the------” “I have come to explain, not to plead,” she went on resolutely. “I want to tell you why I married you. You will not find it a pleasant story, nor will you be proud of your conquest. It will not be necessary for you to turn me out of your house. I entered it with the determination to leave it in my own good time. I think you had better sit down.”