"What?" she exclaimed. "Forbid? What do you forbid? How can you forbid? You could have, in the old days; I wouldn't have done anything if you had asked me not; but now--how can you forbid?" "I do," he cried excitedly. "I utterly forbid it." He was gaining time to think. There was a pause while they stood facing one another. "Do you think," he said presently, "apart from all that's happened, this horrible publicity, my friends all chaffing me, I ever would have married the sort of woman you propose becoming? I wanted a wife to look after me, to be a nice companion; I didn't want a woman-writer. I hate that type of woman. You were a simple, jolly girl when I first married you, and now--writing this popular clap-trap!--you must see, Helena, it isn't fair?" His stern air melted almost to appeal. She would not allow herself to listen but forced the argument on to a safer plane. "This one," she said, "has nothing to do with an author at all, there can't be all those terrible misunderstandings. Oh, don't you see, Hubert," she cried, "that if I wrote another book, all obviously fiction, these horrid gossips may believe at last the other was all like that too? Besides, it's stupid to refuse two hundred pounds just when you say things are so bad and we may have to move." She had not meant it so, but this was her worst cut of all. Hubert remembered his own failure; was reminded of her huge success. A wife selling her books ten times as well as his own--a wife who wrote "for fun" in idle hours--a wife whom he had treated as a silly child.... "This one'll fail," he said almost fiercely, "it's bound to. You're nothing but an amateur, _I_'ve been at the job fifteen years. Two hundred's all you'll get, and much good may it do you!" Full of conflicting moods; sullen yet ashamed; aware of his unworthy jealousy yet hardly able to endure the thought; sorry for her yet sick with his own wound; he turned away before the better side in him should win and he implore the pardon of this woman that he would always love, however much he hated her. "Hubert," she began, aghast at his excitement. "We won't argue," he said, back at the safe level of those days just past, and moved towards the door. She hesitated, not sure who had won. At the door he turned. "Oh, by the way," he said, as to a servant. "I shall want a room for Ruth to-morrow. She's coming down before teatime." Helena gave a short bitter laugh, which he just heard as the door closed. She saw the issue of the tussle now. He had failed to subdue the disobedient wife, and he was asking down his sister! CHAPTER XXV THE BROKEN TRIANGLE Geoffrey Alison, bursting with anxiety for Helena's decision, found her next morning in exultant readiness. "I accept," she cried excitedly, almost before he had got inside the door. "I accept Blatchley's offer. The book is growing splendidly. I've done two chapters and I see it all."