"It is not wrong, but it can be dangerous," he answered. "You have no enemies, Nora, only people who do not understand you and whom you have hurt. You have always been unfortunate in your friends. They have all stood between you and those to whom, by your position, you belong." "You mean that if Arnold were German—’one of us,’ as you would say—it would not matter?" "Not so much." She laughed angrily. "How jealous you are!" she exclaimed. "How petty and jealous!" "Nora!" He was white to the lips, and the hand which had fallen involuntarily on his sword-hilt showed every bone of the knuckles, so tense was the grip. Something in his expression frightened her. "I do not mean you alone," she stammered, "but all of you. You are jealous of us and you hate us. When you marry one of us, you do your best to isolate her, to cut her off from her country and her people." "Is that not inevitable—right, even? But have I done that?" "No." Her conscience smote her as she looked up at him standing erect and stern before her. She realised that another and graver issue had arisen between them—an issue that was perhaps the source of all. She realised that there had been something more than fear and a consequent irritability in her attitude towards him. She had not seen her husband in him, but only the representative of thousands who might soon be marching against her country, and for one short minute at least she had hated him. The realisation horrified her, drove her to a reckless attempt at atonement. "Oh, forgive me, Wolff!" she cried eagerly. "I am simply unbearable this afternoon. Father has written a worrying letter—about mother—and that made me nervous and bad-tempered. Forgive me, dear. Don’t be angry at the silly things I have said." He yielded to the hands that drew him towards her, and kissed her, but rather gravely, as though he more than half-doubted her explanation. "I am not angry, Nora. I only ask you to try and understand. God knows"—she thought his voice changed, and grew less certain—"I would never willingly come between you and any one you cared for, but I have my honour to protect, and your honour is mine." "Wolff, what do you mean? Have I done anything dishonourable?" "No, dear. You cannot see things from my standpoint. You have been brought up with other ideas. I have tried to explain before. We have a double task. For our names’ sake and for the sake of the uniform we wear we must keep ourselves from the very breath of evil. And that applies to every one connected with us." Nora drew her hands away. "I think I understand," she said. "For those two fetishes everything must be sacrificed. I will do my best to satisfy them and you." "Thank you, Nora. I trust you implicitly." She went to the door, hesitated, and then stole out. But in that moment’s hesitation she had caught a glimpse of him standing at his table in an attitude of dejection, and had heard a smothered sigh of pain.