He was at a loss, now, to interpret her changed attitude towards him. Ordinarily, she had been the ideal of a good comrade to him--not demonstratively affectionate, yet kindly sympathetic, loyal and trustworthy. Of late she had become rather distant. There was an awkwardness between them which exasperated Mattock and perplexed the girl herself. "You've forgotten your letter," she reminded him as he drained his cup and rose to go. "Oh, yes." He was preoccupied. She could see the lines of worry on his face. He had been past middle age when he had met her, and prison had aged him; he had aged even more during the last few days. His unspoken trouble awakened the old companionship--shook for a moment the strange barrier of reserve which had separated them so incomprehensibly. She fetched his hat and umbrella for him, and then put her hands on his shoulders. "What is it, Jimmy?" she prompted. "You're so quiet lately." "Am I? Oh, yes, dear, perhaps I am a bit. I'm not feeling quite myself." His voice was expressionless. "This--the whole thing's rather getting on my nerves, I think." He had forgotten the yellow envelope in spite of her reminder, and she went back for it and placed it in his hands. "Do you have to go on?" she said wistfully. "I wish--I wish you'd drop it, Jimmy." "You wouldn't have this flat, then," he said innocently. "D'you think that's everything in my life?" she broke out resentfully. "Didn't I marry you when you hadn't a bean--when you had to--to steal for me? Have we always got to have this life, with everyone's hand against us, and nothing in the future ... _nothing_ ... unless it's Aylesbury for me and the Awful Place for you?" The wall was down now. "This silly feud of yours is going to cost us everything! That's the only idea you've got in your head--to satisfy your rotten vanity, and get your paltry revenge--and you'll go on slogging at it, and risking on it, and wasting your whole life on it! You've set it up as your god, and you'll sacrifice everything to it--sacrifice yourself--sacrifice _me_! ... You've kidded yourself that heaven's at the end of this road you're going, and you'll sweat for your worm-eaten heaven--you'll slave and slink and cringe and break your heart to feed this bloody thing that's gnawing away inside you--and what good'll it do you?" "We've had all this before," said Mattock tonelessly. "I've got to go on. I'm sorry, Joan.... But you can get out of it--it nearly broke me up when I found you were in the Triangle, but it's been on my mind ever since. Get out of it, Joan, and don't fret. We'll pull through somehow." She faced him accusingly, unshed tears in her eyes. "If it costs you everything--in spite of all I've said, you're going on?" she flared. He nodded. "Even if you lose ... _me_?" He stared at her. "You, Joan? Why, how does it touch you? You can go--I've told you I'd prefer you to--and then, when it's all over----"