“Ashamed because you have cried?” she said quickly. “But no! It is good to cry; it is good for men to cry. But when a strong man breaks down and sheds tears, I am--oh, I am heartbroken. A woman's tears mean nothing, but a man's? Oh, they are terrible! But come! You must compose yourself. The others will be here in a few minutes. I ran away from them on the pretext that I--but it is of no consequence. It is enough that I am here. You must go to your room and bathe your face. Go at once. Your father must not know that you have cried. He------” “Curse him!” came from between Frederic's clenched teeth. “Hush!” she cried, with another glance at Ranjab's door. She would have given much to know whether the Hindu was there or still below-stairs. “You must not say such----” “I will say it, Yvonne--I'll say it to his face! I don't care if the others do see that I have been crying. I want them to know how he hurts me, and I want them to hate him for it.” “For my sake, Frederic, calm yourself. I implore you to go to your room. Come back later, but go now.” He was struck by the seriousness in her voice and manner. An ugly, crooked smile writhed about the corners of his mouth. “I suppose you're trying to smooth it over so that they won't consider him a brute. Is that it?” “Hush! Please, please! You know that my heart aches for you, _mon ami_. It was cruel of him, it was cowardly--yes, cowardly! Now I have said it!” She drew herself up and turned deliberately toward the little door across the room. His eyes brightened. The crooked sneer turned into an imploring smile. “Forgive me, Yvonne! You must see that I'm beside myself. I--I------” “But you must be sensible. Remember he is your father. He is a strange man. There has been a great deal of bitterness in his life. He------” “Have I been the cause of a moment's bitterness to him?” cried Frederic. “Why should he hate me? Why------” “You are losing control of yourself again, Frederic.” “But I can't go on the way things are now. He's getting to be worse than ever. I never have a kind word from him, seldom a word of any description. Never a kind look. Can't you understand how it goads me to------” “Yes, yes! You've said all this before, and I have listened to you when I should have reminded you that he is my husband,” she said impatiently. “By Heaven, I don't see how you can love him!” he cried boldly. “Sometimes I wonder if you do love him. He is as selfish, as unfeeling as oh, there's no word for it. Why, in the name of God, did you ever marry such a man? You couldn't have loved him.” Something in her expression brought him up sharply. Her eyes had narrowed; they had the look of a wary, hunted thing that has been driven into a corner. He stared. “Forgive me, Yvonne. I--I------” “You don't know what you are saying,” she panted. “Are you accusing me?” “No, no! What a coward, what a dog I am!” he cried abjectly.