‘I told you I had gone through a good deal more than you imagined. I have struggled to keep my money, in spite of shames and miseries, and I will have it for myself--and my child! If you want to know the truth, go to Samuel Barmby, and ask him what he has had to do with me. I owe no explanation to _you_.’ Tarrant could see her face only in profile. Marvelling at the complications she gradually revealed, he felt his blood grow warm with desire of her beauty. She was his wife, yet guarded as by maidenhood. A familiar touch would bring the colour to her cheeks, the light of resentment to her eyes. Passion made him glad of the estrangement which compelled a new wooing, and promised, on her part, a new surrender. ‘You don’t owe it me, Nancy; but if I beg you to tell me all--because I have come to my senses again--because I know how foolish and cruel I have been--’ ‘Remember what we agreed. Go your way, and let me go mine.’ ‘I had no idea of what I was agreeing to. I took it for granted that your marriage was strictly a secret, and that you might be free in the real sense if you chose.’ ‘Yes, and you were quite willing, because it gave you your freedom as well. I am as free as I wish to be. I have made a life for myself that satisfies me--and now you come to undo everything. I won’t be tormented--I have endured enough.’ ‘Then only one course is open to me. I shall publish your marriage everywhere. I shall make a home for you, and have the child brought to it; then come or not, as you please.’ At mention of the child Nancy regarded him with cold curiosity. ‘How are you to make a home for me? I thought you had difficulty enough in supporting yourself.’ ‘That is no concern of yours. It shall be done, and in a day or two. Then make your choice.’ ‘You think I can be forced to live with a man I don’t love?’ ‘I shouldn’t dream of living with a woman who didn’t love me. But you are married, and a mother, and the secrecy that is degrading you shall come to an end. Acknowledge me or not, I shall acknowledge _you_, and make it known that I am to blame for all that has happened.’ ‘And what good will you do?’ ‘I shall do good to myself, at all events. I’m a selfish fellow, and shall be so to the end, no doubt.’ Nancy glanced at him to interpret the speech by his expression. He was smiling. ‘What good will it do you to have to support me? The selfishness I see in it is your wishing to take me from a comfortable home and make me poor.’ ‘That can’t be helped. And, what’s more, you won’t think it a hardship.’ ‘How do you know that? I have borne dreadful degradations rather than lose my money.’ ‘That was for the child’s sake, not for your own.’ He said it softly and kindly, and for the first time Nancy met his eyes without defiance. ‘It was; I could always have earned my own living, somehow.’ Tarrant paused a moment, then spoke with look averted. ‘Is he well, and properly cared for?’