"I'm not a weak woman," she began, staring at the naked candle-flame which gave light to the tent. "It wasn't weakness that impelled me to marry a man I didn't love; it was the determination to get ahead and the ambition to make something worth while out of myself--a form of selfishness, perhaps, but I tell you all women are selfish. Anyhow, he seemed to promise better things and to open a way whereby I could make something out of my life. Instead of that he opened my eyes and showed me the world as it is, not as I had imagined it to be. He was--no good. You may think I was unhappy over that, but I wasn't. Really, he didn't mean much to me. What did grieve me, though, was the death of my illusions. He was mercenary--the fault of his training, I dare say--but he had that man-call I spoke about. It's really a woman-call. He was weak, worthless, full of faults, mean in small things, but he had an attraction and it was impossible to resist mothering him. Other women felt it and yielded to it, so finally we went our separate ways. I've seen nothing of him for some time now, but he keeps in touch with me and--I've sent him a good deal of money. When he learns that I have prospered in a big way he'll undoubtedly turn up again." Pierce weighed the significance of these words; then he smiled. "Dear, it's all the more reason why we should be married at once. I'd dare him to annoy you then." "My boy, don't you understand? I can't marry you, being still married to him." Phillips recoiled; his face whitened. Dismay, reproach, a shocked surprise were in the look he turned upon his companion. "Still married!" he gasped. "Oh--Hilda!" She nodded and lowered her eyes. "I supposed you knew--until I got to telling you, and then it was too late." Pierce rose; his lips now were as colorless as his cheeks. "I'm surprised, hurt," he managed to say. "How should I know? Why, this is wretched--rotten! People will say that I've got in a mess with a married woman. That's what it looks like, too." His voice broke huskily. "How could you do it, when I meant my love to be clean, honorable? How could you let me put myself, and you, in such a position?" "You see!" The woman continued to avoid his eye. "You haven't grown up. You haven't the least understanding." "I understand this much," he cried, hotly, "that you've led me to make something worse than a cad of myself. Look here! There are certain things which no decent fellow goes in for--certain things he despises in other men--and that's one of them." He turned as if to leave, then he halted at the tent door and battled with himself. After a moment, during which the Countess Courteau watched him fixedly, he whirled, crying: "Well, the damage is done. I love you. I can't go along without you. Divorce that man. I'll wait." "I'm not sure I have legal grounds for a divorce. I'm not sure that I care to put the matter to a test--as yet." "WHAT?" Pierce gazed at her, trying to understand. "Say that over again!"