"But it will never cease to humiliate me," he muttered. "Well, perhaps that is good for you," was the mischievous suggestion; and to cover his confusion he was fain to take the cup of soup and drink it, she watching with a glance of covert triumph. She would not let him off until he had eaten and drunk all that was on the tray, which she then carried to a distant table. He watched her as she returned, work-bag in hand, seating herself upon a high stool, or bunch of cushions which stood near the hearth. She drew out her bit of embroidery, using it obviously as a refuge for eyes and hands. He leaned forward, and sat, chin cupped in palm, watching her. "Must one be a little unwell in order to secure your sympathy and attention, Virginia?" "Sick people need taking care of"--with a laugh and a blush--"and I like taking care of people. I always did." He made no immediate reply, for he was meditating a plunge. She clung to her work as to a raft in a tumbling sea. "I was very sick yesterday," he remarked at length. "For a long time they said you were--dead," she almost whispered. "I wish they had been right. It would have been better. Virginia! _Why did you call me back?_" She turned pale. Her work fell upon her knee. "Then I was right!" she muttered. "I suspected, I knew it really! You had some idea of throwing yourself down that place and pretending it was an accident!" He sat still, without denying it. "You wanted to die!" she repeated, accusing him. "You wanted to kill yourself! But why? Osbert, you have got to tell me why." "You know why well enough. To undo the harm I have done you. To set you free." "Then," she pursued swiftly, "I suppose I am right in my other suspicion, too? You don't want me here! You married me, not because you loved me or wanted me, but to be revenged upon mother through me.... And now that you find you are too soft-hearted--or that you have ceased to think that I deserve punishment--you want to get rid of me! But surely there are other ways to do that! You needn't kill yourself! If you don't want me, I can go?... Why did you make such a point of my coming back if--if----" He made a sound of speechless scorn; but he had turned pale. Clearly this view of the question took him aback. "Of course you know that you are talking nonsense," he said at last. She was now too much roused to feel nervous. "You call it nonsense," said she, "but if those are your feelings----"