Yet, ever since yesterday constraint had fallen between him and this woman, whose personality obsessed him. Constraint, of which they had never been conscious in those first feverish days of illness. It must be that Anne had become suddenly antagonistic towards him. At any rate, it was plainly to be seen that he had outstayed his welcome, that she no longer desired his presence. He must go away immediately, to-morrow, perhaps. But where? Certainly not to the cabin. A refuge at first, it had soon become a prison of maddened and inarticulate fears. To return would be unthinkable. Yet to go back to civilization would be almost equally difficult. He was so tired, so unutterably soul-weary that the very idea of having to meet people and cope with their curiosity turned him cold. He shivered and drew his breath with a hissing sound. "What is the matter, Alexis?" Anne's tones fell upon the silence like the ringing of a bell. He started uncontrollably. "What did you say?" She looked at him pityingly. His egotistical young misery at once touched and annoyed her. To-night she was a little weary, a trifle bored with both him and the situation. "I merely asked what was the matter," she repeated gently enough. "A silly question, as it is self-evident. You have been miserable ever since yesterday. I think you regret the parting from your wife more than you realize. It has made me very unhappy, too. I hope you were not harsh, and that you said nothing final. Please forgive me for interfering!" She smiled apologetically into his glum face and held out her hand. Bridging the distance in one stride, he bent over the proffered hand and kissed it with an intensity that took Anne off her guard. "As if you could ever interfere!" he exclaimed forcibly. "You are an angel for bearing with me and my boorish moods! It is a debt I never can repay," he concluded rather formally. "Nonsense," Anne laughed with less constraint. "I have done nothing. But if you insist upon an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, you can repay me by doing nothing rash just at present. You see I worry about you terribly, don't I?" She smiled up at him with disengaging frankness. "You are so good, so wise." He sat down upon the floor at her feet. "I am not worth all your trouble." He tried unsuccessfully to regain possession of her hand. "Indeed you are," she interposed, "and even if you were not, your art is!" she added significantly. His eyes, which had been fixed worshippingly on her face, hardened. "My art! And I flattered myself that you took a personal interest in me. You're just like the others, after all!" He rose angrily, and began to pace up and down the room. Both hurt and amused, she watched him with an indulgent smile. "It is naturally the artist in you which interests me the most," she replied quietly. "Anything further would be an impertinence," she finished rather cruelly. The furious pacing stopped. He glared down upon her.