“Now, don’t let’s waste useful time,” the Seer interposed seriously. “This is a practical matter. There’s no knowing how soon your husband may return. I just mean business. I want to hear, straight and short, what you’ll give for this letter. We all know very well you’ve got enough already to prove the count of cruelty upon. You’ve only got to prove the other thing in order to get a regular divorce from him. And the proof of it’s here, in plain black and white, under his own very hand, in this letter I’ve read to you. Now, what do you offer? If you name my figure, it’s yours; if you don’t—well, Philippina’s a very good friend of mine; here goes—I’ll burn it!” He held it over the fire, which was burning in the grate, as he looked hard into her eyes. Linnet drew back a pace or two, and faced him proudly. “Mr Holmes,” she said, in her very coldest voice, “you entirely misunderstand. You reckon without your host. You forget I’m a Catholic. Divorce to me means absolutely nothing. I’m Andreas Hausberger’s wife before the eye of God, and all the law-courts on earth could never make me otherwise—could never set me free to be anyone else’s. So your letter would be absolutely no use at all to me. I knew pretty well, long since, the main fact it implies; and it mattered very little to me. Andreas Hausberger is my husband—as such, I obey him, by the law of God—but he never had my heart; and I never had his. On no ground whatsoever do I value your document.” The Seer, in turn, drew back in incredulous amazement. Was she trying to cheapen him? He interpreted her words after his own psychology. “No; you don’t mean that,” he said, with an unbelieving air. “You’d get a divorce if you could, of course, like anyone else; and you’d marry that man Deverill. Don’t think I’m such a fool as not to know how you feel to him. But you’re seeming to hang back so as to knock down my price. You want to get it a bargain. You think you can best me. Now, don’t let’s lose time haggling. Make me an offer, money down, and I’ll tell you at once whether or not I’ll entertain it.” Linnet gazed at him in unspeakable scorn and contempt. “Do you think,” she said, advancing a step, “I’d bargain with you to buy a wretched thing like that! If I wanted to leave my husband, I’d leave him outright, letter or no letter. I stop with him now, of my own free will, by the Church’s command, and from a sense of duty.” So far as the Seer was concerned, this strange woman spoke a foreign language. Duty was a word that didn’t enter into his vocabulary. He scanned her from head to foot, as one might scan some queer specimen of an unknown wild species. “You can’t possibly mean _that_,” he cried, with a discordant little laugh, for he was used to the free Western notions on these subjects. “Come now, buy it or not!” he went on, dangling the letter before her face, between finger and thumb. “It’s going, going, going! Won’t you make me a bid for it?”