SHE loved him. Of that there was no doubt. To her he was the man of men. The half angel, half fool of her original conception had melted into an heroic figure capable of infinite tendernesses. The lingering barbaric woman in her thrilled at the memory of him contemptuously facing death before the madman's revolver. Her higher nature was awed at the perfect heroism of his sacrifice. She knelt at his feet, recognising the loftier soul. Sex was stirred to the depths when his arms were about her and his kiss was on her lips. In lighter relations he was the perfect companion. For all her vacillation, let that be remembered: she loved him. All of her that was worth the giving he had in its plenitude. The days which followed her initiation into domestic economy were days of alternating fear and shame and scornful resolution. She lost grip of herself. The proud beauty curving a contumelious lip at the puppet show of life was a creature of the past. Set the proudest and most self-sufficing of women naked in what assembly you please, and she will crouch, helpless, paralysed, in the furthest corner. Some such denudation of the moral woman had occurred in the case of Norma Hardacre. The old garments were stripped from her. She was bewildered, terrified, no longer endowed with personality. Sometimes despising herself and resolved to perform her manifest duty, she sought other lessons from Aline. They ended invariably in dismay. Once she learned that Jimmie had never had a banking account. The money was kept in a drawer of which Jimmie and Aline had each a key. On occasions the drawer had been empty. Another lesson taught her that certain shops in the neighbourhood were to be avoided as being too expensive; that cream was regarded as a luxury, and asparagus as an impossible extravagance. Every new fact in the economy of a poor household caused her to shiver with apprehension. All was so trivial, so contemptibly unimportant, and yet it grew to be a sordid barrier baffling her love. She loathed the base weakness of her nature. It was degrading to feel such repulsion. One evening Connie Deering was going to a Foreign Office reception, and came down an enchanting vision in a new gown from Paquin and exhibited herself to Norma. “I think it's rather a success. Don't you?”