“That’s the tragic part of it,” said Larpent.

She brushed away her tears and tried to smile.  “I wonder you bothered to tell me,” she said.

His hand closed almost unconsciously upon her arm.  “I had to tell you,” he said.  “It’s a thing you ought to know.”  He hesitated a moment, then concluded with obvious effort.  “And I wanted to offer you my help.”

“Thank you,” whispered Toby.  “You—­you—­that’s very—­generous of you.”  She gulped again, and recovered herself.  “What do you want to do about it?” she said.

“Do?  Well, what can I do?” He seemed momentarily disconcerted by the question.

Toby became brisk and business-like.  “Well, you don’t want to retire and live in a cottage with me, do you?  We shouldn’t either of us like that, should we?”

“There’s no question of that now,” said Larpent quietly.  “Your home is with your husband, not with me.”

Toby flinched a little.  “My home isn’t anywhere then,” she said.  “When I left him, it was—­for good.”

“Why did you leave him?” said Larpent.

Toby’s lips set in a firm line, and she made no answer.

Larpent waited a few moments; then:  “It’s no matter for my interference,” he said.  “But it seems to me you’ve made a mistake in one particular.  You don’t realize why he married you.”

Toby made a small passionate movement of protest.  “He ought not to have done it,” she said, in a low voice.  “I ought not to have let him.  I thought I could play the part.  I know now I can’t.  And—­he knows it too.”

“I think you’ll have to play the part,” Larpent said.

“No!” She spoke with vehemence.  “It’s quite impossible.  He has been far too good—­far too generous.  But it shan’t go on.  He’s got to set me free.  If he doesn’t—­” she stopped abruptly.

“Well?  If he doesn’t?” Larpent’s voice was unwontedly gentle, and there was compassion in his look.

Toby’s eyes avoided his.  “I’ll find—­a way for myself,” she said almost inarticulately.

Larpent’s fingers tightened again upon the thin young arm.  “It’s no good fighting Fate,” he said.  “Why has it become impossible?  Just because he knows all about you?  Do you suppose that—­or anything else—­is going to make any difference at this stage?  Do you imagine he would let you go—­for that?”

Toby’s arm strained against him.  “He’ll have to,” she declared stubbornly.  “He doesn’t know all about me either—–­any more than you do.  And—­and—­and—­he’s never going to know.”

Her voice shook stormily.  She glanced about her desperately as if in search of refuge.  The child in her arms stirred and woke.

Larpent got up as if the conversation were ended.  He stood for a moment irresolute, then walked across to the two little girls digging busily a few yards away.

Eileen greeted him with her usual shy courtesy.  “Won’t you wait a little longer?” she said.  “We’ve very nearly finished.”