And just when Norval was most sensitive to shock; just when Law’s trouble and desertion left him in the deepest gloom, Katherine devastated the one area, which he believed to be sane and impregnable, by a most unlooked-for assault. She was the sort of woman who comes slowly and secretively to conclusions. She was as unconscious of this herself as others were. Apparently she was a most conservative, obvious person, a person with an overwhelming sense of duty and obligation and untiring in her efforts to prove this. Since Helen Law’s death, Norval had gone as little to his studio as possible; had devoted himself to Katherine; had condoned her coldness and indifference. "I deserve all she gives," he thought and rose to greater effort. He even got to the point of noticing her beauty, her grace, and concluded that they, and what they represented, meant more than paint pots and canvases. "A man cannot have everything," he confessed, "he must make a choice." Virtually Norval had made his choice, when Katherine blotted out, for the time being, all his power to think straight. He was trying to plan for the summer, he was patiently setting forth the charms of the watering places he loathed but which promised the most dissipation. "I am not going away with you, Jim." Katharine’s soft face grew hard. "I have a duty to myself, I see it at last. All my life I have sacrificed everything for you, Jim." This was humiliating, but Norval assented. "Even my talent!" Katherine flung this out defiantly. They were in their home, having one of their endless get-no-where talks. Norval meant to do his full part, but the trouble was that he had no part in the actual life of his pretty, commonplace wife. "Your talent, Katherine, your talent?" Norval did not question this derisively, but as if she had told him of having an eye in the middle of her forehead. "You have not even been interested enough to notice." This with bitterness. Norval, for some idiotic reason, or lack of it, stared at the middle of her smooth, white brow. "I’ve written this; I did not tell you until it was between covers." Norval took a book she offered as he might have taken a young and very doubtful baby. "It looks ripping!" he said. "It—it is well spoken of," Katherine’s eyes were tear-dimmed. Norval gingerly handed the book back. "You—you don’t even care, now! You won’t open it. I have dedicated it to you. The first copy is yours. I don’t believe you’ll even read it." "I will, Kit," Norval grabbed the book back fiercely. He was so stunned that he could not think at all. Katherine writing a book! It would be as easy to think of her riding the circus ring. "I’ll sit up nights reading it, Kit. That’s what folks always do, they don’t lay it down until the last word, even if it takes all night! What is it about?" "It is called ’The Awakened Soul.’" Katherine tried to repress a sob. Her anger, too, was rising.