Slowly he withdrew his hands from her throat, and clasped them together with all his strength. Turning for a moment, he glanced at the open window. The space seemed to have contracted and darkened, so that it looked black and small as a square grave cut out for a child. But if not by the window, what other end to it all would he find? He could not go on like this--with a to-morrow and a day after, and weeks and months to follow. He turned, and in speaking to her, unconsciously used her name. "Could you think, Mavis, I cared for my job better'n my honor?" "I thought you'd never know. And I loved you, Will--only you--no one else." He scarcely seemed to listen to the answer. He turned from her again; and went on talking, as if to himself or the far-off stars, or the invisible powers that mold men's destinies. "'Aardn't I my fingers and brains--to work for you? Would I care--so's you could be what I thought you were--whether I broke my back or burst my heart in working for you? Besides, t'wouldn't 'a' bin that. What was it but the loss of the office--a step back that I'd soon 'a' recovered." He groaned; then suddenly he unclasped his hands and brandished them. The rhythmic beat of his rage came strong and high, and with savage energy he seized her again. "It's half lies still. The money? How does that match? He gave it to you. Deny it if you dare." "Yes, I tried not to take it. He forced it on me." "Lies! It was the bit for yourself when you drove your bargain--nothing to do with me--you--you. The price of your two or three nights of love." "No, I swear. He forced the money as a present. The price he paid was his help to you. As God hears me, that's the truth." Then, answering more and more questions, she resumed her story. After Dale's departure she went over to North Ride, thinking that Mr. Barradine was at the Abbey, and that he would come to her at the Cottage. She sent a letter inviting him to do so. There was no answer for four days. Then Mr. Barradine wrote to her from London; and she went up on Friday afternoon, and saw him at Grosvenor Place. "He said he'd engaged rooms for me at an hotel, and I was to go there; and I went there." "What hotel?" "The Sunderland Hotel--Alderney Street." "Go on." "I waited in the rooms." "Rooms! You mean one room, you slut!" "No, there were four rooms--a grand suite." "Go on." "He said he would come to me next day, or Sunday at latest. And he didn't come on Saturday--I stopped indoors all day, afraid to go out for fear of meeting you--and he didn't come till Sunday, after lunch." "Ah! How long did he stay?" "Till early this morning. Will, let me be--I'm done. You're throttling me." "Go on. I'll 'aarve it all out of you. Begin at the beginning. It's Sunday afternoon we're talking of--ever since lunch time. There's a many hours to amuse yourselves." "After dinner he made me dress up." "What d'you mean?" "He had brought things in his luggage--fancy dress." "What dresses?"