"Why do you glare at me so, Jim? Of course I have seen her, talked to her. I came last night. I am staying at a house down the road. I heard that a painter by the name of Alton lived with Mam’selle Jo Morey, made pictures in a cabin in the woods; I put things together. I went to Mam’selle Morey’s, found the house empty. I came here and found the—the young girl quite at home, apparently waiting for you." The cold voice was calm and deadly distinct, the eyes were indignant—but just. "And then you talked!" There was a sneer in Norval’s voice. "I suppose you felt it your duty to talk? What did you talk about, Katherine?" Norval was in a dangerous mood, but his wife had never been afraid of him and she knew no fear now. Besides, she had the whip hand. He knew it; she knew it! "I told her your name, for one thing. I do not question your conscience, Jim. I leave that to you." "Thank you, and what next did you tell her?" "I told her the truth. Are you afraid of the truth? Are you afraid of the truth, Jim? You were flying under false colours, were you not?" "Yes." "I told her Anderson Law sent you; he did, did he not, Jim?" "He asked me to come, yes." "And you think you have fulfilled your duty to Anderson Law? You think he would approve?" Norval winced. "I ask you again, Jim, has this girl any hold on you?" "If you mean the vile thing I fear you mean, no! As God hears me, no!" Norval spoke in a still fury. "If you mean has she the highest claim a woman can have on a man, yes. Katherine, it may be best for us to get this over as soon as possible. If I seem brutal, you’ll have to forgive me. I’m pretty far gone in my capacity of self-control. I dare say you’ve spoken nothing but the truth to the girl you found here. I make no excuse for her or myself. Think what you please, patch it up anyway you can. Whatever wrong has been committed is mine, not hers. She never knew of your existence until you informed her. She is as simple as a child, as wonderful as a woman can be before the world has spoiled her. I love her and she loves me. I meant to tell her everything when I was free; she could not understand before. My only desire is to—to marry her and know the first pure joy of my life. But I suppose your plain, damnable truth has killed her. If it has, I swear——" "It has not killed her, Jim." And there was a glint in Katherine’s steely eyes. "She said she was going to a Tom Gavot, whoever he may be. And, Jim, doesn’t it sound a bit, well, peculiar, for you to speak as you have just spoken to—to your wife? For, after all, I still am your wife." "But that tie will soon be broken. Why did you come here; why, in heaven’s name?" An impotent fear held Norval. Katherine was there, and Donelle had gone to Tom Gavot! That was about all he could take in. Suddenly Katherine Norval’s face softened, her head dropped, she looked terribly ill and haggard.