The two men went home together, and Rainsford stayed to supper as he had taken a habit of doing, for Fairfax did not wish to be alone. But when at ten o'clock the guest had gone and the engineer and his wife were alone together in their homely room, Fairfax said—
"Don't judge me too harshly, Molly."
Judge him? Did he think she did?
"You might well, my dear."
He took the hand that did all the work for his life and home and which she tried to keep as "ladylike" as she knew, and said, his eyes full on her—
"I do the best I can. I'm an artist, that's the truth of it! There's something in me that's stronger than anything else in the world. I reckon it's talent. I don't know how good it is or how ignoble; but it's brutal, and I've got to satisfy it, Molly."
Didn't she know it, didn't Mr. Rainsford tell her? Didn't she want to leave him free?
"You're the best girl in the world!" he cried contritely, and checked the words, "You should never have married me."
She couldn't see the struggle in him, but she could observe how pale he was. She never caressed him. She had long since learned that it was not what he wanted; but she laid her hand on his head, for he was sitting on the bed, and it might have been his mother who spoke—
"You're clear tired out," she said gently. "Will I fix up a bed for you in the kitchen to-night? You'll lie better."