He held up his hands to her, and cried abjectly: “Oh, Fair, if only you will forgive me, I will work for you--slave for you--for I love you madly, and it may be that some day I can make you rich. Oh, Mrs. Fielding,” frantically, as that lady was about to speak, “do not speak, do not interfere between us! It is her affair and mine alone, for she is my wife. I love her, and perhaps she has some little love for me that will make her forgive me some day.” At that Fair found her voice, and, holding up her hand for him to be silent, she said, in a clear voice: “Tell me the truth, George Lorraine, or whatever your name is--was this deception carried out in all, or was I only deceived about your riches? Are you, or are you not, the cousin of Bayard Lorraine?” “Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Belva Platt, and Fair’s husband answered shamefully: “I am not any kin to Bayard Lorraine. I never saw him, nor heard of him, until Belva Platt told me about him, and the plan to pretend he was my cousin was hers, not mine. But, Fair, I love you, in spite of the way I was led to marry you. I’ll make you a good hus----” “Hush!” she almost screamed, and the fire that flashed from her brown eyes almost frightened him. He started, and sprang erect, listening with sullen patience, as she went on scathingly: “You are a coward and a villain, and I hate you for the wicked way in which you have deceived me. As for forgiving you, I will never do it. I will never live with you, either, and now I’m going back to the old house with my mother, and if you ever darken our door I’ll have you put out by a policeman.” “Quite right, my dear, quite right! We’ll have him put out by a policeman,” muttered Mrs. Fielding, in a half-dazed way; but Belva Platt exclaimed jeeringly: “Pshaw! You talk very fine, Fairfax Fielding, but the law will make you live with him, don’t you know that? George Lorraine, I didn’t know you could be such a white-faced coward as to give in to a proud little hussy like that! Come, be a man! Tell her she shan’t go. She married you of her own free will, now let her live with you.” But Mrs. Jones, who had been looking and listening in amazement, now interposed sharply: “Belva Platt, this is the meanest plot I ever heard of. You ought to be forever and ever ashamed of yourself.” “She ought to be hung!” declared Sadie Allen, in a fierce gust of anger. She went to the deceived girl and put her arms around the trembling form. “Darling little Fair, don’t be frightened. You shan’t live with him if you don’t want to. I’ll mount guard over you and keep him away,” she declared, with a menacing glance at the bridegroom; but Belva’s advice had encouraged him to rebellion, and he said sullenly: “You mind your own business, Miss Allen. Fair’s my wife, and she’s got to live with me. If she tries on any foolishness with me, she’ll only make matters worse for herself.”