Her breathing was uneven, her eyes were seeking to rend the mask from his face.
"Can you have learnt to care for any one else ?" she muttered.

"There were no women in Africa.

This Rosamund Dominey, your reputed wife--they tell me that she is beautiful, that you have been kindness itself to her, that her health has improved since your coming, that she adores you.

You wouldn't dare--" "No," he interrupted, "I should not dare." "Then what are you looking at ?" she demanded.

"Tell me that ?" Her eyes were following the shadowed picture which had passed out of the room.