Of the man and woman standing there face to face the woman's soul was the more guilty, it may be, in God's eyes, that minute. She loathed him with such intensity of hatred. The leer in his eyes was that of a fiend, to her. In which she was wrong. There are no thorough-bred villains, out of novels: even Judas had a redeeming trait (out of which he hanged himself). This man Gurney had a weak, incomplete brain, strong sensual instincts, and thick blood thirsty for excitement,--all, probably, you could justly say of Nero. He did not care especially to torment the woman,--would rather she were happy than not,--unless, indeed, he needed her pain. So he stopped, regarding her. Enough of a true voluptuary, too, to shun turmoil. "There! hush! For God's sake don't begin to cry out. I'm weak yet; can't bear noise." "I'm not going to cry," her voice so low he had to stoop to hear. Something, too, in her heart that made her push Pen from her, when he fumbled to unclasp her clinched hands,--some feeling she knew to be so foul she dared not touch him. "Do you mean to claim me as your wife, John?" He did not reply immediately; leisurely inspecting her from head to foot, as she stood bent, her eyes lying like a dead weight on his, patting and curling his yellow whiskers meanwhile. "Wife, heh? I don't know. Your face is getting gray. Where's that pretty color gone you had a bit ago, Puss? By George!"--laughing,--"I don't think it would need much more temptation to make a murderer out of you. I did not expect you to remember the old days so well. I was hard on you then,"--stopping, with a look of half admiration, half fear, to criticize her again. "Well, well, I'll be serious. Will I claim you again? N--o. On the whole, I believe not. I'll be candid, Grey,--I always was a candid man, you know. I'd like well enough to have the taming of you. It would keep a man alive to play Petruchio to such a Kate, 'pon honor! But I do hate the trammels,--I've cut loose so long, you see. You're not enough to tempt a fellow to hang out as family man again. It's the cursedest slavery! So I think," poising his ringed finders on his chin, thoughtfully, "we'd best settle it this way. I'll take my exchange and go South, and we'll keep our own counsel. Nobody's wiser. If it suits you to say I'm dead, why, I'm dead at your service. I won't trouble you again. Or if you would rather, you can sue out a divorce in some of the States,--wilful desertion, etc. I'm willing." She shook her head. "In any case you are free." She wrung her hands. "I am never free again! never again!"--sobs coming now, shaking her body. She crouched down on the ground, burying her head out of sight. "Tut! tut! A scene, after all! I tell you, girl, I'll do what you wish." She raised her head. "If you were _dead_, John Gurney! That is all. I was going to be a pure, good, happy woman, and now"----