me. If you remember, I did want to trust you, even on that dreadful day, but you wouldn't let me."
"I was a brute," he said remorsefully.
"I do want to tell you one thing. Even if that boy had been holding my hand I should have thought I had a right to let him, if I liked—just as much as though I were a girl, or a widow."
"I don't understand. But tell me—please tell me anything you will tell me." His tone was very humble.
"My husband was a beast," she said calmly. "He betrayed me, he beat me, he had every vile quality a man can have. No, I'll be just to him: he was always good tempered when he was drunk. But when he was sober he used to beat me and pinch me—"
"But—but you could have got a separation, a divorce," he gasped.
"A separation wouldn't have freed me—really. And the Church doesn't believe in divorce," she said demurely. "I did, however, and I left him, and instructed a solicitor. But the brute went mad before I could get free from
