"Well," resumed Jack argumentatively, "if he won't 'chuck' you, why
don't you 'chuck' HIM?"

She turned quite white, and suddenly dropped her eyes. "Yes," she said,
almost inaudibly, "lots of girls would do that."

"I don't mean go back to your old life," continued Jack. "I reckon
you've had enough of that. But get into some business, you know, like
other women. A bonnet shop, or a candy shop for children, see? I'll
help start you. I've got a couple of hundred, if not in my own pocket
in somebody's else, just burning to be used! And then you can look about
you; and perhaps some square business man will turn up and you can marry
him. You know you can't live this way, nohow. It's killing you; it ain't
fair on you, nor on Rylands either."

"No," she said quickly, "it ain't fair on HIM. I know it, I know it
isn't, I know it isn't," she repeated, "only"--She stopped.

"Only what?" said Jack impatiently.

She did not speak. After a pause she picked up the rolling-pin from
the table and began absently rolling it down her lap to her knee, as
if pressing out the stained silk skirt. "Only," she stammered, slowly
rolling the pin handles in her open palms, "I--I can't leave Josh."

"Why can't you?" said Jack quickly.

"Because--because--I," she went on, with a quivering lip, working the
rolling-pin heavily down her knee as if she were crushing her answer out