"He's a shrewd, sensible, hard-working man,--no more mad than you are,
nor as mad as I was the day I married him. He's lived up to everything
he's said." She stopped, hesitated in her quick, nervous speech; her lip
quivered slightly, but she recalled herself, and looking imploringly,
yet hopelessly, at Jack, gasped, "And that's what's the matter!"

Jack fixed his eyes keenly upon her. "And you?" he said curtly.

"I?" she repeated wonderingly.

"Yes, what have YOU done?" he said, with sudden sharpness.

The wonder was so apparent in her eyes that his keen glance softened.
"Why," she said bewilderingly, "I have been his dog, his slave,--as far
as he would let me. I have done everything; I have not been out of the
house until he almost drove me out. I have never wanted to go anywhere
or see any one; but he has always insisted upon it. I would have been
willing to slave here, day and night, and have been happy. But he said
I must not seem to be ashamed of my past, when he is not. I would have
worn common homespun clothes and calico frocks, and been glad of it, but
he insists upon my wearing my best things, even my theatre things; and
as he can't afford to buy more, I wear these things I had. I know they
look beastly here, and that I'm a laughing-stock, and when I go out
I wear almost anything to try and hide them; but," her lip quivered
dangerously again, "he wants me to do it, and it pleases him."

Jack looked down. After a pause he lifted his lashes towards her
draggled skirt, and said in an easier, conversational tone, "Yes! I
thought I knew that dress. I gave it to you for that walking scene in
'High Life,' didn't I?"