And I caught her in my arms again, half-reclining on the bed. "Sh!" she flung me off with a sudden impulse of frightened strength, "I hear someone." "It's only the wind." "Quick!... my God!"-- * * * * * I snatched up a volume of Keats. It fell open at "St. Agnes Eve." I hurled myself into a chair ... gathering my breath I began aloud, as naturally as I could-- "St. Agnes' Eve! ah, bitter chill it was; The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold--" At that very instant, Penton burst in at the door. He paused a dramatic moment, his back to it, facing us. I stopped reading, in pretended astonishment. "Well, Penton?" acted Hildreth languidly.... The look of defeat and bewilderment on the husband's face would have been comic if it had not been pitiable. I rose, laying the book down carefully. "I think I'll go now, Hildreth ... you wish to see Penton alone." I put all the calm casual deference in my voice possible. I started to walk easily to the door. "No! stop! I wish you to stay here, John Gregory ... since you've got yourself into this--" "I'd like to know what you mean by 'got yourself into this'?" "Oh, Gregory, let's not talk nonsense any longer." "You don't believe what I assured you this morning?" "Johnnie, it's not human ... I can't make myself, and I've tried and tried, God knows!" "I'd like to know, for my part, just what you mean, Penton Baxter, spying on me this way--bursting in on poor Johnnie Gregory and me like a maniac, while we were only reading poetry together." "--reading poetry together!" he echoed bitterly, almost collapsing, as he went into a chair. Again I tried to make my exit. "Johnnie, I want you to stay. I want to have all this out right here and now," snapped Baxter decisively. "Very well ... if you put it that way." "--a nice way to treat your guest," Hildreth interposed, "the way you've been raving about him, too. 'Johnnie Gregory' this, and 'Johnnie Gregory' that!--and the minute he arrives, first you try to make him put up at the community inn; and now you accuse him of--of--" Hildreth began to weep softly.... And then began a performance at which I stood aside, mentally, in admiration ... the way that little woman handled her husband! She wept, she laughed, she upbraided, she cajoled ... at one moment swore she wanted nothing better than to die, at the other, vowed eternal fidelity till old age overtook them both.... * * * * * "I _must_ go," I cried, quite ashamed of myself in my heart. Baxter's credulity had expanded again, in the sun of Hildreth's _forgiveness_ of him for his unjust suspicions!... For the first time in my life I perceived how a desperate woman can twist a man any way she wants. "No, you must not go! it is I who am going--to show that I trust you." "Good God!" I protested--this was too much! "no, no ... good-night, both of you ... good-night, Penton! good-night, Hildreth!"