"Ah! dear heaven!" she cried, and drew bade as though he had struck her. "To think that you should say that to me,--that you should hold me so cheaply in your thoughts! How dare you?" "Cheap!" he sneered. "Women are cheap--and ungrateful. I've given you everything you wanted; I've denied you nothing... I've been generous. It has been a fair exchange. If there are things you don't like, you've got to put up with them. You've got to stand this sort of thing." He worked himself into a rage. "You and your damned jealousy!" he shouted. "I've had enough of it. I can't be decently civil to a girl but you take it in the light of a personal slight. I won't hear any more of this tom-foolery. The girl stays. I won't be brow-beaten in this fashion." "Very well," Pamela said. Despite her quiet manner, her voice broke; she was trembling from head to foot. "In that case, it is I who will go. If I had realised three years ago the position in which you held me, I would have left you then. Although to part then would have caused me pain, it would have left untarnished my faith in you. You've killed that." He made a grab at her and caught her by the shoulder and shook her roughly. "By heaven!" he cried. "You tempt me to strike you. So you would leave me, would you? What do you suppose will become of you and the children without my protection? ... You've lived with me for eight years,-- you've had everything I could give you; and in a moment of beastly jealousy you talk as lightly of leaving me as though I were nothing to you. What are you going to do if you leave my protection?" "I earned my own living before I met you," she answered. "You hadn't the children then," he reminded her. "No," Pamela admitted, and her eyes filled with tears. "Don't you think they have a right to be considered?" he demanded. "You are not so damned selfish as to deny that, I imagine. If you leave my home, you ruin their future." He was quick to see his advantage. He did not wish her to take the step she threatened. Social ostracism in two countries was rather much for a man, who has passed his youth, to face complacently. He had come to a time of life when the comforts of a home are indispensable; knocking about the world, even if accompanied by a mistress, did not appeal to his fastidiousness. Her threat had taken him by surprise; he had not considered this possibility; it found him unprepared. He pressed his point more insistently. "You've got to consider them," he persisted. "If things leak out it will be beastly awkward for them when they are older. You've no right to make them suffer. You've no right to force poverty on them as well as disgrace. And it will be poverty. If you leave me, I will do nothing for you, nor for them." At that she turned her face and regarded him fixedly. "If I leave you," she said, "I wouldn't desire you to do anything for me,--but I can compel you to provide for the children."