She twisted her hands helplessly, staring out the window over worn roofs to storm-clouds piling against the sky, hurt and defenseless against his light irony. "Yes, yes," she said tremulously. "You have a right--I deserve all that." She sat down weakly, her hands between her knees, staring out. "Oh, please," he said, smiling at the dramatic assumption. "Don't let's take things too seriously. I was not so hard hit as all that. Honestly, now that it's all over I'm--well, rather relieved. It would have been rather a nasty mess. I like the ruts of life; I'm quite happy going on as I am. You see how frank I am--I won't play the injured hero. Now that I look back, critically, in my own sort of way, I assure you my only sentiment is one of admiration. Great heavens, what does it avail to have all the knowledge of the world against one little woman! Come," he added with a certain nervous intentness, which belied the simulated lightness of his tone, "be frank. You know you never meant to go." She shook her head slowly, staring ahead of her as though painfully distinguishing that other volatile and breathless self. "It seems an awful thing to say now," she said slowly. "I think I would have gone if I'd been sure of you." "If!" he said scornfully. "You never really wanted to go!" she said, rising and approaching him swiftly, speaking rapidly with quick breaths. "You only wanted the sensation of the forbidden--you, too! All you say now proves it! You were always thinking of society--of what your friends--and the newspapers would say--always afraid, always hesitating, always a gentleman!" "True, but not at the last," he said doggedly, forgetting his pose. "Yes, yes, even at the last. Just the same at the last," she said angrily. "No, no! I was to blame! I saw in you what you were not, what you could never be. I was wild--crazy; but I longed for something beautiful--a great romance. I thought you understood--you didn't! It was never anything but an infatuation with you--just that and nothing else--something pulling you down!" "That is not true," he said roughly, stirred by her charge. "At the end it was I and not you who would have made the greater sacrifice. I was ready to throw over everything!" "No, no!" she repeated blindly. "You weren't going of your own free will. There were times when you hated me more than you loved me. At the end you were going like a criminal!" "What! When I had told my wife all--broken with her--put myself in her power--turned my back on everything--yes, and gladly!" "I never believed it," she said standing in front of him, inciting him by word and look. "I don't believe it now. If you had cared as I wanted--" "Cared! Great God," he broke in passionately, "I was ready to exile myself, to throw my reputation to the dogs--to ruin my whole life. Cared!"