A shudder of misery shot through both of them at their own coarseness. But they were launched. And it was clear to Gage that in some way or other not only Sable but Helen had thought him involved with Freda. It did not make him particularly angry. He rather courted the injustice of the suspicion because it justified him in his own position. This was where this business of Helen’s had landed them then. Alienated, loveless, suspicious--this was the natural outcome of the whole thing. Minds running on sex all the time--that was what happened to these women--yet without delicacy, without reserve. So she thought he was like that, did she? She was thinking that sort of viciousness while he’d been trying to protect her even from himself. What was the use of it all? “I don’t know what you hear of my escapades as you call them,” he answered. “Possibly you might inform me?” She was sick with shame at her own impulse but perhaps it had been at the bottom of her mind corroding it more than she knew. “I didn’t mean to say that, Gage.” “You must have meant something.” He was insistent, brutal. He would have the truth out of her. He wanted the inside of her mind, to torture himself with it if he could. He wanted it over with. “Not to-night, Gage. I’m tired. Let’s talk over some of these things when we are both fresh. I--I apologize.” She moved towards the door of the living-room on her way upstairs. But Gage caught her hand. He stood looking down at her and as she met his eyes she saw that his face was almost strange. His eyes looked queer. They were brutal, excited, strange glints. His mouth seemed to hang loose and heavy. “Not to-night, Gage,” she repeated. In her voice was a droop of weariness that was unmistakable. “Why not to-night? Because you want to save yourself fresh for your public to-morrow? You don’t want to be bothered with a husband and his annoyances?” “Not to-night because you aren’t in the right mood.” He still held her hand. “But suppose I want to go into it to-night. There’ll be no better time. Day after to-morrow my wife goes to the National Convention to dazzle the American public. Suppose she sets her house in order first. Every good politician does that, Helen.” “There’s a devil in you, Gage, isn’t there?” “A hundred, and every one bred by you. Tell me, what you were referring to as my escapades? Tell me.” He shook her a little. She felt a hairpin loosened and the indignity suddenly made her furious. “Let me go.” “I will not let you go. I want you to tell me.”