Now the thing that Mary hated more than anything else in the whole world was pity. Through all the shock of the astounding revelation that Mills and Dulcie cared for each other came the sting of their sympathy. She sat up, a shadow among the shadows. "I mustn't stay, Mills," Dulcie was declaring. "Why not?" "I feel like a--thief--" "Nonsense, we are only taking our own, Dulcie. We should have taken it years ago. Loving you I should never have married Mary." "I had a conscience then, Mills, and you had promised." "But now you see it differently, Dulcie?" "Perhaps." Mills was on his knees beside Dulcie's chair, kissing her hands. The fire lighted them. It was like a play, with Mary a forlorn spectator in the blackness of the pit. "Let me go now, Mills." "Wait till Mary comes--we'll tell her." "No, oh, poor Mary!" Poor Mary indeed! "Anyhow you've got to stay, Dulcie, and sing for me, and when Mary comes back she'll get us some supper and I'll read you my new verses." Among the shadows Mary had a moment of tragic mirth. Then she set her feet on the floor and spoke: "I'm sorry, Mills, but I couldn't cook supper to-night if I died for it--" From their bright circle of light they peered at her. "Oh, my poor dear!" Dulcie said. "I'm not poor," Mary told her, "but I'm tired, dead tired, and my head aches dreadfully, and if you want Mills you can have him." "Have him?" Dulcie whispered. "Yes. I don't want him." Mills exploded. "What?" "I don't want you, Mills. I'm tired of being a prop; I'm tired of planning your meals, I'm tired of deciding whether you shall have mushrooms with your steak or--onions. You can have him, Dulcie. I know you think I've lost my mind." She came forward within the radius of the light. "But I haven't. As long as I thought Mills cared I could stick it out. But I have learned to-night that he loved you before he married me. You gave him to me, Dulcie, and now you want him back." Indian giver! Like a flash Dulcie's mind went to the little Mary of the pigtails and pointing forefinger. "You want him and you can have him. Perhaps if you had taken him years ago he might have been different. I don't know. Perhaps even now he can live up to all the lovely, lovely things that you and he are always talking about. But I've had to talk to Mills about what he likes to eat and what we have to pay for things; I've had to push him and prod him and praise him, and it has been hard work. If you want him you can have him, Dulcie." Mills had a stunned look. "Don't you love me, Mary?" "I think I've proved it," she said quietly; "but I couldn't possibly go on loving you now. You have Dulcie to love you, and one woman is enough for any man. I don't know what you are planning to do, but you needn't run away or do anything spectacular. I'll make it as easy for you as possible. And now if you don't mind I'll go up and take a headache powder; my head is splitting." Left alone, they tried to regain their air of high romance.