When Dot stood up she was stiff, and chilled to the bone. She was no longer sorry, all the aching for a loving word and kiss had gone, she was only very very tired and very cold. She looked at Larrie with eyes heavy and indifferent, if he had come and kissed her then she could not have responded or warmed in the slightest degree. She drew her wrap closer about her bare neck and arms and shivered again. 'Well?' she said dully. But he went and brought a rug from the hall stand and put it around her before he answered. 'I think you had better go to bed now,' he said, 'we can talk to-morrow.' 'No, now,' she said. 'It is very late,' he put back the blind and disclosed the grey struggling dawn. 'It is four o'clock, to-morrow will do.' But she sat down on the sofa where the green cushion was quite dry again. 'If you have anything to say, say it now,' she said, 'it is too late for bed now, what is it you are going to do?' There was a curious look of suffering on his face and in his eyes. 'I think I had better go away,' he said. Dot only stared at him. 'There seems no other way, I have thought of everything; there is nothing else left.' 'You mean separate?' she asked. He nodded. She bit her lip, but was surprised to find how easily she kept calm. She waited for him to continue. 'You could stay here--it needn't be talked of, your mother would look after you. I'll go to Melbourne or Coolgardie or somewhere.' 'For always, you mean?' 'We could see, perhaps it would look differently afterwards--for the present I mean--we can't go on living together, and I can't see anything better to do.' Dot's eyes grew hard. 'If you go,' she said, 'I will never live with you again. But I don't ask you not to go.' 'Yes, it is the best thing,' he said, which answered his own thoughts rather than fitted in with her words. She looked at him strangely. 'When were you thinking of going?' 'To-morrow,' he said, 'to-day, rather. There is no use in delaying--I arranged everything to-night--last night.' 'Very well,' Dot said, 'that is settled then.' She pulled the cloak up tightly and rose, then she loosened it again and sat down. Her eyes were cold, her lips very firm. 'Remember,' she said 'this is final. I committed a fault--perhaps. I cannot do more than ask your forgiveness. Do not think I shall be put away and taken back at pleasure. Go--I would not put out my finger to keep you, but never again so long as both of us live will I be your wife in anything except name.' He sat down on the chair near the little writing table, the light was full on his white face and lips.