"I do--I do." Jim groaned and dropped on the sofa beside her. "Oh, what fools we were to go into that insurance business!"
"It was my fault, dear. Don't worry. Demetrius will die soon, and Strange has his blackmail. We are entirely safe."
"Katinka?"
"Oh," said the Duchess, with a flippancy she was far from feeling, "I suppose shell sit by the grave of that man for the rest of her days."
"You're sure he's dyin'?"
"Yes!" She turned pale, and her voice quavered. "Such an object could not possibly live. It would be a--a--sin."
"What's his trouble?"
"I don't know--I can't say. I don't want to say. It's--it's too beastly for words. Ugh! He looked--looked--oh!" Leah's mouth worked like a rebuked child, and she burst into tears--into real womanly tears of shame and terror and outraged modesty. "That horrible kiss--oh, that horrible kiss!" she wailed, pinching his shoulder in her hysterical emotion.
"Poor old girl," said Jim, softly, and put his arm round her.
For once she appreciated marital sympathy, and learned that woman was not made to live alone. Leaning her cheek thankfully against the rough tweed of his coat, she sobbed vehemently, a frightened and crushed creature. Jim felt that he was a married man after all, and administered gruff consolation. It worried him to see this high-spirited woman break down so utterly. "There, there," said he, tenderly; "it's all right, old girl. You've got me."