Of course, a woman could divorce a man for incompatibility of temper and things of that sort in one or two states out West, in America, Severance had vaguely heard. But a hocus pocus affair of that sort wouldn't be considered legal in England, and Marise could never, in such circumstances, become the Countess of Severance, even if they had money to marry on--which they wouldn't have! Severance had not known or guessed how the girl had said to herself that, if there were a question of jilting, _she_ wished to be the jilter, not the jilted. Had he known, he would have felt even more bitter against Fate. As it was, he pitied Marise, although the disasters which had fallen on them both came through her impulsiveness. If only she hadn't rushed off and married John Garth on an hour's notice, that beastly paragraph would never have been printed, and OEnone would still be alive. It had been foolish, rash, passionately mistaken. Severance felt hotly. But there was little resentment in his pain. He blamed himself almost, if not quite, as much as Marise, and all that was Greek in him accepted, while it writhed at, the fatality. When OEnone's funeral was over and the contents of her will known, the legacy reached the amount promised. But--the exchange, the awful exchange between England and America! And the equally appalling death duties! Even if Severance decided to plunge, and offer _all_ to Garth, the sum would fall far short of a million dollars. Besides, he couldn't offer all, or nearly all. He was dunned on every side. There were moments--moments when he was most Greek--when Tony said to himself that he would have to leave Marise to her fate. She had made her bed. She must lie on it. He would stay in England, pay his debts, and be extremely comfortable on what was left over out of OEnone's gift. But there were other moments, burning moments, fanned to molten fire by Mrs. Sorel's letters and telegrams. He _couldn't_ give up Marise! Something must be done. And at last, through the red mists he saw a way to bluff himself out of the depths. "Coming back at once," he cabled Mary Sorel at Bell Towers, and started the same day (the fourteenth day after OEnone's funeral) in a cabin given up at the eleventh hour by its purchaser. The legacy was not yet in his hands, nor would it be for months to come, but Severance had been able to borrow a substantial sum on the certainty of his prospects. The voyage was stormy, and not being a good sailor, he arrived in New York a wreck. He had courage enough, however, to start at once for Los Angeles, where he meant to see his friend and well-wisher, Mrs. Sorel. With her counsel he would consolidate his plans, and start the campaign against Garth. CHAPTER XXXIII THE VISITORS' BOOK