"Your husband is under a great mental strain. His inability to support you, his banishment from his proper sphere in the social world is mental torture to him. He feels his position keenly. There is nothing else to occupy his mind but thoughts of his utter and complete failure in life. I was talking to his father last night, and----" "And what?" she demanded, drawing herself up. She suspected what was coming, and nerved herself to meet it. "Now, don't regard me as an enemy," said the doctor in a conciliatory tone. "Mr. Jeffries inquired after his son. Believe me, he's very anxious. He knows he did the boy a great injustice, and he wants to make up for it." "Oh, he does?" she exclaimed sarcastically. Dr. Bernstein hesitated for a moment before replying. Then he said lightly: "Suppose Howard goes abroad for a few months with his father and mother?" "Is that the proposition?" she demanded. The doctor nodded. "I believe Mr. Jeffries has already spoken about it to his son," he said. Annie choked back a sob and, crossing the room to conceal her emotion, stood with her back turned, looking out of the window. Her voice was trembling as she said: "He wants to separate us, I know. He'd give half his fortune to do it. Perhaps he's not altogether wrong. Things do look pretty black for me, don't they? Everybody believes that my going to see Underwood that night had something to do with his suicide and led to my husband being falsely accused. The police built up a fine romance about Mr. Underwood and me--and the newspapers! Every other day a reporter comes and asks us when the divorce is going to take place--and who is going to institute the proceedings, Howard or me. If everybody would only mind their own business and let us alone he might forget. Oh, I don't mean you, doctor. You're my friend. You made short work of Captain Clinton and his 'confession.' I mean people--outsiders--strangers--who don't know us, and don't care whether we're alive or dead; those are the people I mean. They buy a one-cent paper and they think it gives them the right to pry into every detail of our lives." She paused for a moment, and then went, on: "So you think Howard is worrying? I think so, too. At first I thought it was because of the letter Mr. Underwood wrote me, but I guess it's what you say. His old friends won't have anything to do with him and--he's lonely. Well, I'll talk it over with him----" "Yes--talk it over with him." "Did you promise his father you'd ask me?" she demanded. "No--not exactly," he replied hesitatingly. Annie looked at him frankly. "Howard's a pretty good fellow to stand by me in the face of all that's being said about my character, isn't he, doctor? And I'm not going to stand in his light, even if it doesn't exactly make me the happiest woman in the world, but don't let it trickle into your mind that I'm doing it for his father's sake." At that moment Howard entered from the inner room. He was surprised to see Dr. Bernstein.