"Because you are all self--you admitted that long ago. To do you justice, I think you were a good wife to Jim." "I _am_ a good wife. Don't make me out to be the widow I am not. Of course, this story must be false," she ended, helplessly. "I think not--it is too circumstantial. And moreover, this man, who appears to be illiterate, could not invent such a tale. Plainly the Russian, who seemed to be clever, conspired to get rid of Jim, so that you might be induced to marry him." "As though I would ever do such a thing! I told you at Firmingham that I had no intention of marrying. I daresay Jim and I will come together again, and be very happy." "I hope so--I trust so," said Lionel, with solemn emphasis. "Remember, God is giving you another chance." "I made very good use of the last one," she retorted sullenly. "Jim was always to blame, and not I. I suppose this insurance money will have to be given back." "Certainly. You can hardly complain of that, seeing the income you will now receive." "Jim will, you mean. I expect he'll turn out a screw now that he is rich. Your spendthrifts are always old misers. And I don't see why you should be nasty. I'm sure I have had a miserable time." "You will have a happy one now," he said, relenting. "With Jim?" she cried derisively. "How optimistic you are!" "Surely I have a right to be, when God is so good to you." "God," she echoed, vaguely, and thinking of the obliging fetish. "Oh yes, of course. I'm awfully thankful. The insurance money would not have lasted for ever, and I might not have found so manageable a husband as Jim. Things will be jolly now." Lionel groaned. "Is that as high as you can rise?" he asked, rebukingly. "Oh, Lord, what do you want me to say?" cried Leah, with the causeless anger of the overwrought. "I can't think of pious proverbs when I am like this. What with supposed deaths and real deaths, and nothing but funerals to amuse one, I don't know if I am on my head or my heels. There, that's vulgar, and you needn't look disgusted if it is. I feel vulgar. I could run out and howl up and down Curzon Street like a Whitechapel woman in a tantrum. And if you preach,--if you--you---- Oh, what fools men are!" She choked, rolled in her chair, ripped a handkerchief, and kicked away a foot-stool.