"Ah," she replied, "but when the Englishman is a brute----! Since I came to this country, I've never written a word to my father that has not been read and--approved!" There was a wealth of scorn in her tones. "Not a word of my sorrows, of the indignities, the insults he had heaped upon me. Any attempt to post a letter on my own account, or to send it by a servant, has resulted in failure, and in the ignominy of having it opened, and destroyed in my presence. My income lies there in the bank. His brother is the banker. I had the choice of drawing cheques to my husband's order, or not drawing them at all." "Were you then deprived of money? Surely, to keep up outside appearances, and I judge your husband would have desired that, you must have had an allowance?" "I had unlimited credit in the town," she replied. "I could buy what I pleased and charge it, but not a shilling did I have wherewith to pay. It was my maid, my good Marie, who, when he threatened me with detention, gave me her little all, her savings, and told me to run away--ah, that was bitter! But I knew she meant no disrespect--I accepted it--she shall be repaid a hundred-fold." "I think you need have no fears of not being restored to all your rights and privileges," he said, "and then?" "Then I will be free." "You mean you will procure a separation?" "A divorce." "But surely your husband----" "Oh, he has not even constancy to commend him; he does not even conceal his preferences. He is always receiving letters from some woman--some old friend, he tells me--calling him to London for an hour, or a day, as the case may be, and no matter what plans I may have made, he goes." "You know her name?" "She signs her Christian name only--no wonder--but I have her letters and I'll find her out." "And when you've found her, what then? Will you plead with her?" "I?" she cried. "I, a De Costa, degrade myself by pleading with a woman of that class!" The Secretary shrugged his shoulders. "I think every woman," he said, "has some good in her, low as she may be, some spark of longing for better things, some element of self-respect that never quite dies out." "You're right," she admitted. "A man is by nature a brute. A woman, even at her worst, is not quite that. Some extra spark of divinity seems to have been given her in compensation for her weakness." "I believe no woman is wholly bad," said the Secretary. "The worst women of history have, at some moments in their lives, been very near redemption." "I believe that is so," she replied. "I am very glad to hear you say that. If you can still find charity in your heart for your own sex, surely I may believe, even in the face of my friends' hostile criticism." "And is there a woman, whom you--shall we say, 'respect' enough to believe in--no matter what is said of her?" "There is," he replied.