He looked away. The expression in her eyes cut him like a knife. "I ought to have been shot for that, Mary," he said. "Yes," she agreed mechanically. His hand went to his mouth suddenly, as if to steady the lips. "I'm not asking you to overlook it. Maybe you'll spare Christine the knowledge of it--not for my sake, but for hers." "Tom, don't you feel that you owe _me_ something?" she asked steadily. "Everything. I'm going to pay, too. I took you from a home like this and--Oh, well, it won't do any good to bring it all up again. Let's--" "You owe me a little happiness and peace, Tom, after all these years." "Oh, I'll go away all right. This is the last time you'll ever see me." "It isn't that that I ask. There was a time when we were happy, you and I. I do not forget the old days, before you--I mean, when we were working together, you and I, to get control of the circus. Not that I liked the life--God knows I did not! but that we were striving for big, good things. I--" "You got your money back," he broke in weakly. "That's more than I did." "What had I ever done to you, Tom, that you should sell me as if I were a concubine to--" "Didn't I tell you it was whiskey--and cards?" he cried fiercely. "True. You _did_ tell me that," she admitted, closing her eyes. He looked at the lowered lids for a moment and then swore softly to himself--not an oath of anger but of despair. She opened her eyes and caught the fleeting look of shame and remorse. "Ah," she cried, "you _have_ a heart, after all. I saw it then. Tom, you _did_ love me, years ago--you were fine and strong and true. You were yourself. You have changed, but I can still see something of the strong, manly Tom Braddock _I_ loved in those wonderful days." He was scowling again, but she had seen through the mask. She went on eagerly: "You are obsessed by this idea of vengeance. What can it mean to you, after all is said and done? You say you are going to end your own life, as well. You will escape the consequences, as any coward would, and you are _not_ a coward. Who stays behind to suffer all the pain and anguish? Not you! Oh, no! I am the one--as if you had not already done enough. Christine and I! We--" "I won't listen to you!" he cried, his breast heaving. "You are listening! You can't help it. Come! You must sit down here beside me. This is the one, great, solitary hour in your life." [Illustration: "This is the one, great, solitary hour in your life"] He drew back and permitted an irrelevant question to break from his lips: "Why didn't you divorce me?" "Because I married you, Tom, that is why! I'll always be your wife. I--I can't live with you--but I--" "Mary, you are the grandest woman in all this world," he cried, amazement in his eyes. "And to think of it! I am the one to have married you,--a thing like me!" She was trembling all over. "Will you do this for me, Tom?" "Do what?" "You know what, Tom."