"Of course we did!" retorted his wife--"You yourself saw that I was rather taken aback,--it was difficult to conceal our mutual astonishment--" "It must have been!" and a thin ironic smile hovered on his lips--"And you carried it off well! But--the poor child!--what an ordeal for her! You can hardly have felt it so keenly, being seasoned to hypocrisy for so many years!" Her eyes flashed up at him indignantly. He raised his hand with a warning gesture. "Permit me to speak, Maude! You can scarcely wonder that I am--well!--a little shaken and bewildered by the confession you have made,--the secret you have--after years of marriage--suddenly divulged. You suggested--at the beginning of this interview--that perhaps there was nothing in the social life of our day that would very much shock or surprise me--and I answered you that I was not easily surprised--but--I was thinking of others.--it did not occur to me that--that my own wife--" he paused, steadying his voice,--then continued--"that my own wife's honour was involved in the matter--" he paused again. "Sentiment is of course out of place--nobody is supposed to feel anything nowadays--or to suffer--or to break one's heart, as the phrase goes,--that would be considered abnormal, or bad form,--but I had the idea--a foolish one, no doubt!--that though you may not have married me for love on your own part, you did so because you recognised the love,--the truth--the admiration and respect--on mine. I was at any rate happy in believing you did!--I never dreamed you married me for the sake of convenience!--to kill the memory of a scandal, and establish a safe position--" She moved restlessly and gathered her ermine cloak about her as though to rise and go. "One moment!" he went on--"After what you have told me I hope you see clearly that it is impossible we can live together under the same roof again. If YOU could endure it, _I_ could not!" She sprang up, pale and excited. "What? You mean to make trouble? I, who have kept my own counsel all these years, am to be disgraced because I have at last confided in you? You will scandalise society--you will separate from me--" She stopped, half choked by a rising paroxysm of rage. He looked at her as he might have looked at some small angry animal. "I shall make no trouble," he answered, quietly--"and I shall not scandalise society. But I cannot live with you. I will go away at once on some convenient excuse--abroad--anywhere--and you can say whatever you please of my prolonged absence. If I could be of any use or protection to the girl I saw last night--the daughter of my friend Pierce Armitage--I would stay, but circumstances render any such service from me impossible. Besides, she needs no one to assist her--she has made a position for herself--a position more enviable than yours or mine. You have that to think about by way of--consolation?--or reproach?" She stood drawn up to her full height, looking at him.