His silence, his gaze filled Claire with horrible confusion. She blushed crimson. Within the hurricane of his glance her soul shivered, exposed, naked. What blasting thought, what ignoble memory lurked behind those stormy eyes? Shame seared her as with a hot iron. Yet her surrender had been as pure as it had been entire. Was she not Alexis' wife? Bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh? Did not she carry within her body his seed? With a heroic effort, she raised her head and their eyes clashed. "What are you thinking of?" she inquired with a quiet hauteur, which surprised him. His answer skirted the truth warily. "That you should never have married me, Claire. We shall never be happy together. It was all a horrible mistake. Let us undo it, dear." "I cannot divorce you, if that is what you mean." Her hands were clasped convulsively upon each other. "But, Claire, we do not love each other. I--I----" he faltered. "Yes, I know, you love another woman. You don't have to tell me that, Alexis." Her smile was grim. "But, I want to marry her," he blurted cruelly. "You must divorce me, Claire." The searing crimson drained from her face, leaving it the livid hue of marble. "We are husband and wife, Alexis. No human being can undo that now." He sprang out of the chair and strode up and down the room. "That toqué idea of yours! The idea is mediæval and has died out like a thousand other superstitions." "Not among the Roman Catholics, Alexis!" Her eyes begged for mercy. "Oh, Claire, be reasonable. Be up to date. These aren't the Dark Ages!" "Oh, poor Alexis." Claire covered her face with trembling fingers. "Is it as bad as all that? But you know I have already told you, you can have a separation any time you wish. I will go away, far away. You need never see me again!" Her voice ended with a sob. Struck with remorse, he looked down upon her haggardly. "What an utter brute I am. But don't you see? It is partly for your sake, too. Suppose you should meet some one else who could really make you happy? Some one good, some one entirely different from me. Wouldn't it be a tragedy if just because a few words had been mumbled over us by an unknown priest, you couldn't marry this other man more suited to you in every way than I am?" "But it isn't the priest who mumbles the formula that counts. He is only an instrument. It is the spirit behind it all. We swore before God in his house to remain together until death us do part. It was a sacred oath. Nothing but death can dissolve it." "If you swore to remain with me until death, why are you willing to have a separation? Isn't that against your principles, too?" His irony cut her to the quick. "I cannot remain with a man who does not love me," she replied quietly, "any more than I could live with any other." "And supposing I love some one else and want to marry her?" "It would be impossible. It wouldn't be legal."