Wavering between the impulse to cast off his wife with every circumstance of public shame, and the piteous desire to arrest her on her path of destruction, he rushed into a middle course, compatible with neither of these intentions.

If at this stage he chose to tell Monica what had come to his knowledge, it should have been done with the sternest calm, with dignity capable of shaming her guilt.

As it was, he had spoilt his chances in every direction.

Perhaps Monica understood this; he had begun to esteem her a mistress in craft and intrigue.
'You say you were never at that man's rooms before to-day ?' he asked in a lower voice.
'What I have said you must take the trouble to recollect.

I shall answer no question.' Again the impulse assailed him to wring confession from her by terror.
He took a step forward, the demon in his face.