"And your reason?" persisted the man. "You know now my explanation for
being--as I am. What is yours?"
"Do you wish a compliment, also, Clayton Craig?"
"I wish to know the reason."
"Unfortunately you know it already. Otherwise you would not be here."
"You mean it is this lonely life, this man of another race you have
married?"
"No. I mean the thing that led me away from this life, and--the man you
have named."
"I don't believe I understand, Bess."
"You ought to. You drank me dry once, every drop of confidence I
possessed, for two weeks."
"You mean I myself am the cause," said the man low.
"I repeat you have the compliment--if you consider it such."
Again there was silence. Within the stable door, during all the time,
the grey wolf had not stirred. He was observing them now, steadily,
immovably. Though it was bright sunlight without, against the background
of the dark interior his eyes shone as though they were afire.
"Honestly, Bess," said the man, low as before, "I'm sorry if I have
made you unhappy."
"I thought we had decided to be truthful for once," answered a voice.
"You're unjust, horribly unjust!"
"No. I merely understand you--now. You're not sorry, because otherwise
you wouldn't be here. You wouldn't dare to be here--even though my
husband were away."
Again instinctively the man's face reddened. It was decidedly a novelty
in his life to be treated as he was being treated this day.
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