She wrote to Mr. Barradine, simply asking him to exert this influence on behalf of her husband; and the reply—­the letter that she tore up—­was in these words:  “I will do what I can; but why don’t you come and ask me yourself?” Of course she knew what that meant.

It was at the railway station, when bidding Dale good-by, that she made up her mind to save him at all costs.  When he refused to act on Ridgett’s advice, when he showed himself so firm, so unyielding, she knew that he was a man going to his doom, unless she could avert the doom.

“And, Will—­believe it or not—­no woman ever loved a husband truer than I loved you at that moment.  To see you there so brave and strong and good—­and yet certain sure to ruin yourself!  Well, I couldn’t bear it.  And if it was to do again, I’d do it.”

Slowly he withdrew his hands from her throat, and clasped them together with all his strength.  Turning for a moment, he glanced at the open window.  The space seemed to have contracted and darkened, so that it looked black and small as a square grave cut out for a child.  But if not by the window, what other end to it all would he find?  He could not go on like this—­with a to-morrow and a day after, and weeks and months to follow.

He turned, and in speaking to her, unconsciously used her name.

“Could you think, Mavis, I cared for my job better’n my honor?”

“I thought you’d never know.  And I loved you, Will—­only you—­no one else.”

He scarcely seemed to listen to the answer.  He turned from her again; and went on talking, as if to himself or the far-off stars, or the invisible powers that mold men’s destinies.

“’Aardn’t I my fingers and brains—­to work for you?  Would I care—­so’s you could be what I thought you were—­whether I broke my back or burst my heart in working for you?  Besides, t’wouldn’t ‘a’ bin that.  What was it but the loss of the office—­a step back that I’d soon ‘a’ recovered.”

He groaned; then suddenly he unclasped his hands and brandished them.  The rhythmic beat of his rage came strong and high, and with savage energy he seized her again.

“It’s half lies still.  The money?  How does that match?  He gave it to you.  Deny it if you dare.”

“Yes, I tried not to take it.  He forced it on me.”

“Lies!  It was the bit for yourself when you drove your bargain—­nothing to do with me—­you—­you.  The price of your two or three nights of love.”

“No, I swear.  He forced the money as a present.  The price he paid was his help to you.  As God hears me, that’s the truth.”

Then, answering more and more questions, she resumed her story.

After Dale’s departure she went over to North Ride, thinking that Mr. Barradine was at the Abbey, and that he would come to her at the Cottage.  She sent a letter inviting him to do so.  There was no answer for four days.  Then Mr. Barradine wrote to her from London; and she went up on Friday afternoon, and saw him at Grosvenor Place.  “He said he’d engaged rooms for me at an hotel, and I was to go there; and I went there.”