Darrow did not dispute her assumption, and she noticed that he expressed no surprise. He sat down at a little distance from her, turning about in his fingers the cigar-case he had drawn out as they came in. At length he said: “Had he seen Miss Viner?” She shrank from the sound of the name. “No...I don’t think so...I’m sure he hadn’t...” They remained silent, looking away from one another. Finally Darrow stood up and took a few steps across the room. He came back and paused before her, his eyes on her face. “I think you ought to tell me what you mean to do.” She raised her head and gave him back his look. “Nothing I do can help Owen!” “No; but things can’t go on like this.” He paused, as if to measure his words. “I fill you with aversion,” he exclaimed. She started up, half-sobbing. “No--oh, no!” “Poor child--you can’t see your face!” She lifted her hands as if to hide it, and turning away from him bowed her head upon the mantel-shelf. She felt that he was standing a little way behind her, but he made no attempt to touch her or come nearer. “I know you’ve felt as I’ve felt,” he said in a low voice--“that we belong to each other and that nothing can alter that. But other thoughts come, and you can’t banish them. Whenever you see me you remember ... you associate me with things you abhor...You’ve been generous--immeasurably. You’ve given me all the chances a woman could; but if it’s only made you suffer, what’s the use?” She turned to him with a tear-stained face. “It hasn’t only done that.” “Oh, no! I know...There’ve been moments...” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “They’ll be with me as long as I live. But I can’t see you paying such a price for them. I’m not worth what I’m costing you.” She continued to gaze at him through tear-dilated eyes; and suddenly she flung out the question: “Wasn’t it the Athenee you took her to that evening?” “Anna--Anna!” “Yes; I want to know now: to know everything. Perhaps that will make me forget. I ought to have made you tell me before. Wherever we go, I imagine you’ve been there with her...I see you together. I want to know how it began, where you went, why you left her...I can’t go on in this darkness any longer!” She did not know what had prompted her passionate outburst, but already she felt lighter, freer, as if at last the evil spell were broken. “I want to know everything,” she repeated. “It’s the only way to make me forget.” After she had ceased speaking Darrow remained where he was, his arms folded, his eyes lowered, immovable. She waited, her gaze on his face. “Aren’t you going to tell me?” “No.” The blood rushed to her temples. “You won’t? Why not?” “If I did, do you suppose you’d forget THAT?” “Oh--” she moaned, and turned away from him. “You see it’s impossible,” he went on. “I’ve done a thing I loathe, and to atone for it you ask me to do another. What sort of satisfaction would that give you? It would put something irremediable between us.”