She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. He was there concealed, waiting her return. Then he threw the letter at me. I can't keep a good man beyond three pay-days. I do—with all my heart. He rested on one elbow. ‘Is that why you allowed me in, ma’am?’ A dimple appeared in the faded cheek. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened.
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