And just when Norval was most sensitive to shock; just when Law's trouble and desertion left him in the deepest gloom, Katherine devastated the one area, which he believed to be sane and impregnable, by a most unlooked-for assault.
She was the sort of woman who comes slowly and secretively to conclusions. She was as unconscious of this herself as others were. Apparently she was a most conservative, obvious person, a person with an overwhelming sense of duty and obligation and untiring in her efforts to prove this.
Since Helen Law's death, Norval had gone as little to his studio as possible; had devoted himself to Katherine; had condoned her coldness and indifference.
"I deserve all she gives," he thought and rose to greater effort. He even got to the point of noticing her beauty, her grace, and concluded that they, and what they represented, meant more than paint pots and canvases.
"A man cannot have everything," he confessed, "he must make a choice."
Virtually Norval had made his choice, when Katherine blotted out, for the time being, all his power to think straight.
He was trying to plan for the summer, he was patiently setting forth the charms of the watering places he loathed but which promised the most dissipation.
"I am not going away with you, Jim." Katharine's soft face grew hard. "I have a duty to myself, I see it at last. All my life I have sacrificed everything for you, Jim."
This was humiliating, but Norval assented.
"Even my talent!" Katherine flung this out defiantly.