“Why?”
“We quarrelled. I left him,” she repeated monotonously.
“Did he marry you?”
“No. I—I told you. We quarrelled,” there was a touch of asperity in her fretful voice.
“Did he want to marry you? Was the rupture your fault or his?” For a long time there was no answer then a whispered “Mine” came to him almost inaudibly.
“And the Count Sach?”
“There is no Count Sach.”
He turned away with a shrug of hopeless perplexity. He had learned all he cared to know. To force from her the whole story of those sordid years was beyond him. It would do no good to either. She had followed of her own free will the broad path that leads to destruction and she had proved to him again tonight her utter unworthiness. Heartless and without shame, she wanted nothing from him but the means of continuing the life she had deliberately chosen. He had provided for her once, by no argument or reasoning was she entitled to his further bounty. In no sense was he responsible for her. In no sense? With his black brows drawn together in the heavy scowl that was so characteristic, he paced from end to end of the long room, wrestling with himself. And on the sofa where she sat immovable the woman watched the passing and repassing of the tall, stately figure, with glittering eyes that were hard with doubt and fear. What would he do? And gradually the thought came to her that if she could ever have loved any one, she might have loved this man. Not as he was in those old days at Royal Carew, but as he was now. How he had changed! And as she looked at the stern set face that was so different from what she remembered, a sudden feeling of fear ran through her. If he would only speak, only stop that monotonous pacing, only do something to end this horrible waiting.
He came to her at last and she stumbled to her feet to meet him. He spoke swiftly, in a voice that was hoarse and strained. He would settle nothing on her, but because she had been his wife, because of the child she had borne him, he would make her an allowance to be paid quarterly through his solicitors. He made no conditions but he warned her that under no circumstances would the allowance ever be increased.
With averted head and tightly compressed lips she listened to him in silence and when he finished speaking she made no comment and gave him no thanks. And no further word was spoken between them until she left the villa in his carriage, driven by Hosein whose silent tongue could be depended upon. And as the sound of the wheels died away, Carew went back into the house. His face was drawn and gray and his usually elastic step dragged as he passed slowly through the empty halls and across the moonlit courtyard to his own rooms at the back of the house and from there out on to the verandah. For an instant he stood, his haggard eyes upraised to the starry brilliance of the sky, then with a groan that seemed to almost burst his heart, he dropped into a chair and buried his face in his hands.