"You meant to trap me. You would never have dared to talk about an 'explanation' while the Captain was here to defend me!" "I did not mean to trap you. I meant only to confirm a theory that has been in my mind for some time." "So you have been suspecting me for some time and hiding your suspicions! Why couldn't you be brave enough to come out with them at the first?" "Why couldn't you be brave enough to tell me of your love affair?" "Love affair? There has been no love affair." Stainton rose and nervously walked to the window. For a few moments he stood with his back to her, his eyes on the moonlit sea. "Have you noticed," he at last asked, without turning, "that I haven't for some time mentioned your former distaste for the Captain's society?" Muriel was silent. "It seemed strange to me at the very beginning," Jim went on; "but I tried hard to misinterpret it. I tried to shut my eyes to it. Then, that night at L'Abbaye, I saw how you felt at the sight of him with the Spanish dancer----" Muriel had an instant of weakness. During that instant, the low flames of the lamp, the empty sconces, the whole white-panelled room revolved, with an upward motion, slowly around her. "You saw that!" "I saw that something inside the restaurant had upset you, and, naturally, as you started down the stairs, I turned about to observe what it was." The wife fought for her self-control and won it. "Deceit! Deceit even then!" "Since you didn't seem to want the matter mentioned, I, of course, did not mention it; but I understood why you wanted to leave Paris--and I understood later why you wanted to go back." He paused. She scorned to give him a reply. "To be sure," he presently continued, "I tried, when I learned of your illness, to believe that your illness was really the cause; but I did not wholly believe what I tried to believe. After our trip to Italy, too, there came the night of the fete. I could tell when von Klausen and you came back from the Bois that morning that there was something in the air, and I resolved to give you a fair chance. I was not lost on the boulevards: I separated myself from you." He was looking at her now. She sprang to her feet. Her features, once beautiful, twisted themselves between amazement and anger. "A fair chance!" she screamed. "You wanted to give me a fair chance? You threw me into his arms--or tried to--and you call that a fair chance?" Stainton, worn and travel-stained, his face dark with coal-dust, which clogged the furrows and accentuated them, appeared grey and old. Yet he smiled quietly. "Certainly," he said. "While I was in the party, there was no danger; your love for me--or failing your love, your moral strength--need not assert itself against von Klausen so long as I was by. I absented myself to give your love and your moral strength a fair chance." "You coward!"