Again instinctively the man's face reddened. It was decidedly a novelty in his life to be treated as he was being treated this day. Ordinarily glib of speech, for some reason in the face of this newfound emotionless characterisation, he had nothing to say. It is difficult to appear what one is not in the blaze of one's own fireside. It was impossible under the scrutiny of this wide-eyed girl, with the recollection of events gone by. "All right, Bess," he admitted at last, with an effort, "we've got other things more interesting than myself to discuss anyway." He looked at her openly, significantly. "Your own self, for instance." "Yes?" "I'm listening. Tell me everything." "You really fancy I will after--the past?" "Yes." "And why, please?" "You've already told me why." "That's right," meditatively. "I'd forgotten. We were going to be ourselves, our natural worst selves, to-day." "I'm still listening." "You're patient. What do you most wish to know?" "Most? The thing most essential, of course. Do you love your husband? You're unhappy, I know. Is that the reason?" The girl looked out, out over the prairies, meditatively, impassively. Far in the distance, indistinguishable to an untrained eye, a black dot stood out above the horizon line. Her eyes paused upon it. "You'll never tell anyone if I answer?" she asked suddenly. "Never, Bess." "You swear it?" "I swear." Just perceptibly the girl's lips twitched. "Thanks. I merely wished to find out if you would still perjure yourself. To answer your question, I really don't know." "Bess!" The man was upon his feet, his face twitching. "I'll stand a lot from you, but there's a limit--" "Sit down, please," evenly. "It's wasted absolutely. There's not a soul but myself to see; and I'm not looking. Please be seated." From his height the man looked down at her; at first angrily, resentfully--then with an expression wherein surprise and unbelief were mingled. He sat down. The girl's eyes left the dot on the horizon, moved on and on. "As I was saying," she continued, "I don't know. I'd give my soul, if I have one, to know; but I have no one with whom to make the exchange, no one who can give me light. Does that answer your question?" Her companion stared at her, and forgot himself. "Yes, it answers the now. But why did you marry him?" "You really wish to know?" Again the lips were twitching. "Yes." "You're very hungry for compliments. You yourself are why." No answer, only silence. "You've seen a coursing, haven't you?" wandered on the girl. "A little tired rabbit with a great mongrel pack in pursuit? You're not plural, but nevertheless you personified that pack. You and the unknown things you represented were pressing me close. I was confused and afraid. I was a babe four months ago. I was not afraid of How, I had loved him--at least I thought I had, I'm sure of nothing now--and, as I say, I was afraid of you--then." "And now--"