“Suppose you wait till you understand,” she admonished sternly.

“All right, I’m waiting,” he replied.  She felt herself trembling deep inside.  She did not want him to understand, any more than she must to induce him to keep out of this affair.

“To begin with,” she said steadily, “you will soon see yourself, I think, that they fairly loathe the sight of each other—­that there is no real marriage left.”

“That’s fiddlesticks!” snapped Roger.  “Just modern talk and new ideas—­ideas you’re to blame for!  Yes, you are—­you put ’em in her head—­you and your gabble about woman’s rights!” He was angry now.  He was glad he was angry.  He’d just begun!

“If you want me to leave her alone,” his daughter cut in sharply, “just say so!  I’ll leave it all to you!” And she saw him flinch a little.  “What would be your idea?” she asked.

“My idea?  She’s to go straight home and make up with him!”

She hesitated.  Then she said: 

“Suppose there’s another woman.”

“Then he’s a beast,” growled Roger.

“And yet you want her to live with him?”

He scowled, he felt baffled, his mind in a whirl.  And a wave of exasperation suddenly swept over him.

“Well, why shouldn’t she?” he cried.  “Other wives have done it—­millions!  Made a devilish good success of it, too—­made new men of their husbands!  Let her show him she’s ready to forgive!  That’s only Christian, ain’t it?  Hard?  Of course it’s hard on her!  But can you tell me one hard thing she has ever had to do in her life?  Hasn’t it been pleasure, pleasure from the word go?  Can’t she stand something hard?  Don’t we all of us have to?  I do—­God knows—­with all of you!” And he puffed his cigar in a fury.  His daughter smiled.  She saw her chance.

“Father,” she said, in a low clear voice, “You’ve had so many troubles.  Why not leave this one to me?  You can’t help—­no matter how hard you try—­you’ll only make it worse and worse.  And you’ve been through so much this year—­you’ve earned the right to be quiet.  And that’s what they want, both of them—­they both want it quiet, without any scandal.”  Her father glared, for he knew about scandal, he handled it in his office each day.  “Let me manage this—­please,” she said.  And her offer tempted him.  He struggled for a moment.

“No, I won’t!” he burst out in reply.  “I want quiet right enough, but not at the price of her peace with her God!” This sounded foolish, he felt that it did, and he flushed and grew the angrier.  “No, I won’t,” he said stubbornly.  “She’ll go back to him if I take her myself.  And what’s more,” he added, rising, “she’s to go straight back to-night!”

“She is not going back to-night, my dear.”  And Deborah caught her father’s arm.  “Sit down, please—­”

“I’ve heard enough!”

“I’m afraid you haven’t,” she replied.

“Very well.”  His smile was caustic.  “Give me some more of it,” he said.