Dick sank into a chair and lay there almost stunned, plunged in despair that was like a thick fog, and it did not lift until the door opened and Kate stood before him again.
He raised his head and looked at her stupidly, and interpreting his vacant face, she said:
'Dick, you're sorry to have me back again.'
'Sorry, Kate? Well, if things were different I shouldn't be sorry. But you see the blow you struck me with the poker very nearly did for me; I haven't been the same man since.'
'Well,' she said, 'I must go back to the asylum or the home, whatever you call it, and tell them that I am mad.'
'There's no use in doing that, Kate, they wouldn't believe you. Here is the letter I've just received; read it.'
'But, Dick, there must be some way out of this dreadful trouble, and yet there doesn't seem to be any. Try to think, dear, try to think. Can you think of anything, dear? I don't think I shall give way again. If I only had something to do; it's because I'm always alone; because I love you; because I'm jealous of that woman.'
'But, Kate, if I stop here with you all day we shall starve. I must go to business.'
'Ah, business! Business! If I could go to business too. The days when we used to rehearse went merrily enough.'
'You were the best Clairette I ever saw,' Dick answered; 'better than Paola
Mariee, and I ought to know, for I rehearsed you both.'