The fire was nearly out when Caleb entered his kitchen door and drew a chair to the stove. Carleton’s taunting words, “Why don’t you take her home?” rang in his ears. Their sting hurt him. Everything else seemed to fall away from his mind. He knew why he did not take her home, he said to himself; every one else knew why,—every one up and down Keyport knew what Betty had done to ruin him. If she was friendless, tramping the road, within sight of her own house, whose fault was it? Not his. He had never done anything but love her and take care of her. He reached for a pair of tongs, stirred the coals, and threw on a single piece of driftwood. The fire blazed up brightly at once, its light flickering on the diver’s ruddy face, and as quickly died out. “Why don’t I take care of ’er, eh? Why didn’t she take care of herself?” he cried aloud, gazing into the smouldering embers. “She sees what it is now trampin’ the road nights, runnin’ up agin such curs as him. He’s a nice un, he is. I wish I’d choked the life out’er him; such fellers ain’t no right to live,” looking about him as if he expected to find Carleton behind the door, and as quickly recovering himself. “I wonder if he hurt ’er,”—his voice had softened. “She screamed turrible. I ought, maybe, to ’a’ ketched up to her. Poor little gal, she ain’t used to this.” He was silent awhile, his head bent, his shoulders updrawn, his big frame stretched out in the chair. “She ain’t nothin’ but a child, anyhow,” he broke out again,—“Cap’n Joe says so. He says I don’t think o’ this; maybe he’s right. He says I’m bigger an’ twice as old’s she be, an’ ought’er know more; that it ain’t me she’s hurted,—it’s herself; that I married her to take care of ’er; and that the fust time she got in a hole I go back on ’er, ’cause she’s dragged me in arter ’er. Well, ain’t I a-takin’ care of ’er? Ain’t I split squar’ in two every cent I’ve earned since she run away with that”— Caleb paused abruptly. Even to himself he never mentioned Lacey’s name. Bending forward he poked the fire vigorously, raking the coals around the single stick of driftwood. “It’s all very well for th’ cap’n to talk; he ain’t gone through what I have.”