Was it possible that he had begun to love doubt for its own sake?
At last they met, as was to be expected, and Stanistreet was there to see.

He had taken her to the "Criterion" one night, and at the close of the first act Tyson came into the box opposite theirs.

He was alone.

The lights went up in the house, and he looked round before he sat down; evidently he had recognized his wife, and evidently she knew it.
Stanistreet, watching her with painful interest, saw her body slacken and her face turn white under its paint and powder.
"Either she cares for the beggar still, or else--she's afraid for her life of him." A horrible thought flashed across him.

What if all the time she had simply been making use of him as--as a damned stalking-horse for Tyson?
It might account for the enigmatic smiles, the swift transitions, the whole maddening mystery of her ways.