She crouched and trembled...and then she began to think.  It was given her to perceive what she must do.  Instead of fondling Dulac in her thoughts, she must put him out of her heart, she must not permit him in her dreams. ...She had promised him he should be always present in her thoughts.  That promise she must break.  Daily, hourly, she must steel herself against him in preparation for his next appearance, for she knew he would appear again, demanding her. ...It was not in the man to give her up, as it was not in him to surrender any object which he had set his soul to attain.

In spite of cults and theories and makeshifts and sophistries, she knew where her duty lay, where the safety of her soul lay—­it was in fidelity to her husband.  She resolved that fidelity should be his, and as she resolved it she knew that he deserved it of her.  She resolved that she would eject Dulac from her life, and that, with all the strength of her will, she would try to bring herself to give that love to Bonbright which she had promised him by implication, but never by word.  She did not know that love cannot be created by an effort of the will. ...

Before she arose from her pitiful posture she considered many plans, and discarded them all.  There was no plan.  It must all be left to the future.  First she believed it was required that she should tell Bonbright she had married him without love, and beg of him to be patient and to wait, for she was trying to turn her love to him.  But that, she saw, would not serve.  He was being patient now, wonderfully, unbelievably patient.  What more could she ask of him?  It would only wound him, who had suffered such wounds through her.  She could not do that.  She could do nothing but wait and hope—­and meet her problems as best she could when they arose.  It was not an encouraging outlook.

Resolve as she would, she could not quiet her fears.  Dulac would come again.  He might find her in a weaker moment.  Now, instead of one terror she harbored two. ...

CHAPTER XXII

Bonbright, in his business experience, had been like a man watching a play in a foreign language, from a box seat—­with an interpreter to translate the dialogue.  Now he found himself a member of the cast; very much a member, with abundant lines and business.  In his old position as heir apparent to Bonbright Foote, Incorporated, he had been unhappy.  Time had hung heavily on his hands.  He had not been allowed to participate in actual affairs except as some automatic machine or rubber stamp participates.  There every effort of his superiors had been directed to eliminating his individuality and to molding him to the Bonbright Foote type.  He had not been required to use his brains—­indeed, had been forbidden to do so.