“I suppose you think you’re funny? I don’t,” he said. Then he went out and slammed the door. Clare was left alone, and there was a smile about her lips. “Poor old Herbert,” she said. “I think he will have the surprise of his life.” She laughed quietly to herself, and then looked up and listened as she heard a slight noise. She stood up with a sudden look of anger as she saw Gerald Bradshaw gazing at her through the open French windows. The man spoke to her in his soft, silky voice. “Clare, why are you so cruel to me? I have been ill because of your heartlessness.” Clare answered him sternly. “I thought I had got rid of you. Have you come back to plague me?” “I tried to forget you,” said Gerald Bradshaw. “I went as far as Italy to forget you. I made love to many women to forget you. But I have come back. And I shall always come back, because you are my mate and I cannot live without you.” Clare’s voice rang out in the room. “God ought not to let you live. Every word you speak is a lie. You are a thief of women’s honor. Get away from my window, because your very breath is poison.” The man was astonished, a little scared. “You did not speak like that once, Clare. You let me hold your hand. You trembled when I leaned toward you.” “I was ill and weak,” said Clare, “and you tried to tempt my weakness. I was blind and did not see the evil in you. But now I am well and strong, and my eyes are opened to the truth of things. If you don’t go I will call my husband and he will throw you over that balcony at one word from me.” Gerald Bradshaw laughed scoffingly. “Your husband! I could kill him between my thumb and forefinger.” “He is strong because he is good,” said Clare. “I will call him now.” She went quickly toward the bell. “You needn’t call him,” said Gerald Bradshaw. “I would dislike to hurt the little man.” “You are going?” asked Clare. “Yes, I am going,” said the man, “because something has changed in you.” Clare gave a cheerful little laugh. “You are right.” “I see that now. I have lost my spell over you. Something has broken.” “Are you going,” said Clare sternly, “or shall I call my man?” “I am going, Clare,” said the man at the window. “I am going to find another mate. She and I will talk evil of you, and hate you, as I hate you now. Farewell, foolish one!” He withdrew from the window, and instantly Clare rushed to it, shut it and bolted it. Then she pulled down the blind, and stood, panting, with her back to it and her arms outstretched. “God be praised!” she said. “He has gone out of my life. I am a clean woman again.” At that moment Mrs. Heywood entered. “Must you go out again, Clare?” said the old lady. “Only for a little while, mother,” said Clare, a little breathless after her emotion. “Is anything the matter, dear?” said Mrs. Heywood. “You look rather flustered.” “Oh, nothing is the matter!” said Clare. “Only I am very happy.” Mrs. Heywood smiled at her.