"Terms of endearment are unnecessary," I answered impatiently, turning from her. "Such expressions from one who has so grossly deceived me are absolutely nauseating. I have striven for your social advancement and have loved you dearly, but from this moment you are my wife only in name." She buried her face in her hands and was seized by a fit of hysterical sobbing. All her self-control had vanished at the instant she realised that I know the truth, and she now stood before me bent and penitent. "Forgive me," she whispered earnestly. "Forgive me, Geoffrey." "No," I answered, with firmness. "I cannot trust you." "Overlook this incident, and I will never again give you cause for jealousy," she exclaimed. "I will do anything you ask, only have patience with me." "I have already had patience," I answered. "Yet, deceived as I am daily, we can live together no longer." "But I love you," she declared, with fierce earnestness, fixing her fathomless eyes upon me. "If I lose you I shall kill myself." "It is your own fault entirely," I said. "You have chosen to act in this manner, and whatever are the consequences they are of your own seeking. I suppose you will tell me next that this man who was with you compelled you to meet him." "That is the absolute truth," she faltered. "Ah, always the same lame tale," I observed in disgust. "I have not forgotten that night at `The Nook' when I watched you walking with Beck. No, Ella. There is some strange mystery about it all that I don't like. You pretend to love me; but you have some ulterior motive." "There is a mystery, it is true," she admitted, her eyes dimmed with tears. "A mystery so strange and startling that when you know the truth you will stand aghast and dumbfounded. But with its elucidation you will have knowledge of how I have suffered and striven for your sake; therefore I can only pray that the revelations that must accrue may be hastened, for, although to-day you regard me as base and deceitful, you will then learn how much one woman has endured and sacrificed because she loved you." "Then we must part until this mystery is cleared up," I said calmly, my heart full of grief. "You refuse to take me, your husband, into your confidence, therefore I can place no further reliance in your word." "Think," she cried, clutching my arms convulsively. "Why should the happiness of both of us be wrecked by a mere misunderstanding?" "A misunderstanding!" I echoed. "It is assuredly more than that." "No," she answered, endeavouring to stifle her sobs. "You misunderstand me, believing me false to you, whereas I am acting solely in our mutual interests." "To walk alone with a stranger is surely not acting in your husband's interests," I observed bitterly. "Ah, you are mistaken," she said quickly. "When all is explained you will regret the cruel words you have uttered this evening."