Though he had endeavoured not to show it, he was already regretting deeply that he had married. Had he been in better circumstances, Jean might, he thought, have been induced to assist him in some of his swindling operations, just as the wives of other men he knew had done. A woman can so often succeed where a man fails. But as he was almost without a sou, what could he do? Truth to tell, both he and Carlier were in desperate straits. Jean had been quick to notice the change in both men, but she had remained in patience, making no remark, though the whole circumstances puzzled her, and often she recollected how happy she had been at the Maison Collette when she had lived at home, and Ralph, so smart and gentlemanly, had called to see her each evening. These and similar thoughts were passing through her mind, when suddenly she was recalled to her present surroundings by Ralph's sudden entrance. "Halloa!" he cried roughly. "Dinner ready?" "It has been ready more than an hour, dear," she replied, in French, jumping to her feet and passing at once into the tiny kitchen beyond. CHAPTER VIII. REVEALS THE GRIM TRUTH. Though Ralph Ansell's clean-shaven face was strong, and his eyes keen and searching, in the dress he wore he presented anything but the appearance of the gentleman he did when, twelve months before, he had lived in the cosy little bachelor flat in Shaftesbury Avenue. His clothes were black, striped with grey, the coat edged with braid in the foreign manner, his neck was encircled by a soft collar tied with a loose, black cravat. His waistcoat was open, displaying his soft, white shirt and the leather belt around his waist, while on his head was a cloth cap with an unusually large peak. He looked the true Parisian loafer, as indeed he was. Yet love is blind, and as yet Jean would believe nothing to his discredit, crushing out any suspicion that had arisen within her. Having discarded his cap and tossed it across upon a chair, revealing his high, square forehead, he threw off his coat, and in his shirt-sleeves sat down at the table, exclaiming: "Now, then, girl, I hope you've got something eatable to-night. I shall want something to keep me going before to-morrow morning." "Why?" asked the girl, putting down the tureen of _pot-au-feu_ and seating herself. "I've got a little business on, that's all," he snapped, taking his soup, commencing it, and grumbling that it was badly made. "I do my best, Ralph," she protested. "You know I've had no money for three days now." "And if you had, the soup would be just the same," he declared. "You may be all very well to make hats, but you're no good as a man's wife. I've discovered that long ago. I--" His words were interrupted by a loud rap at the door. He started in alarm, but the next second sprang up and welcomed his visitor warmly.