Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday—­By Friday they might be back.  Till now, in an anguish of uncertainty, Monica had made up her mind.  She would keep the appointment on Friday, come of it what might.  If she could not be back in time, she would write a letter.

‘Why are you talking in this tone?’ she said coldly.

’What tone?  I am telling you what I have decided to do, that’s all.  I shall easily find a house down there, no doubt.  Knowing the place, you will be able to suggest the likely localities.’

She sat down, for strength was failing her.

‘It’s quite true,’ Widdowson went on, staring at her with inflamed eyes.  ’You are beginning to look like a ghost.  Oh, we’ll have an end of this!’ He cackled in angry laughter.  ’Not a day’s unnecessary delay!  Write to both your sisters this evening and tell them.  I wish them both to come and live with us.’

‘Very well.’

‘Now, won’t you be glad?  Won’t it be better in every way?’

He came so near that she felt his feverish breath.

‘I told you before,’ she answered, ‘to do just as you liked.’

‘And you won’t talk about being kept a prisoner?’

Monica laughed.

‘Oh no, I won’t say anything at all.’

She scarcely knew what words fell from her lips.  Let him propose, let him do what he liked; to her it was indifferent.  She saw something before her—­something she durst not, even an hour ago, have steadily contemplated; it drew her with the force of fate.

‘You know we couldn’t go on living like this—­don’t you, Monica?’

‘No, we couldn’t.’

‘You see!’ He almost shouted in triumph, misled by the smile on her face.  ’All that was needed was resolution on my part.  I have been absurdly weak, and weakness in the husband means unhappiness in the wife.  From today you look to me for guidance.  I am no tyrant, but I shall rule you for your own good.’

Still she smiled.

’So there’s an end of our misery—­isn’t it, darling?  What misery!  Good God, how I have suffered!  Haven’t you known it?’

‘I have known it too well.’

‘And now you will make up to me for it, Monica?’

Again prompted by the irresistible force, she answered mechanically,—­

‘I will do the best for both.’

He threw himself on the ground beside her and clasped her in his arms.

’No, that is my own dear wife once more!  Your face has altogether changed.  See how right it is that a husband should take the law into his own hands!  Our second year of marriage shall be very different from the first.  And yet we were happy, weren’t we, my beautiful?  It’s only this cursed London that has come between us.  At Clevedon we shall begin our life over again—­like we did at Guernsey.  All our trouble, I am convinced, has come of your ill-health.  This air has never suited you; you have felt miserable, and couldn’t be at peace in your home.  Poor little girl!  My poor darling!’