flinging names at him that he scarcely heard.

There was a little cold tea in a cup close to him that Bessie had
forgotten. He stretched out his hand, and took a mouthful, moistening
his dry lips and throat.

'Yer'll go to prison for this,' he said, jerking it out as he put the
cup down.

He saw her shiver. Her nerve was failing her. The convulsive sobs
continued, but she ceased to abuse him. He wondered when he should be
able to get it out of her. He himself could no more have wept than iron
and fire weep.

'Are yer goin to tell me when yer took that money, and 'ow yer spent it?
'Cos, if yer don't, I shall go to Watson.'

Even in her abasement it struck her as shameful, unnatural, that he, her
husband, should say this. Her remorse returned upon her heart, like a
tide driven back. She answered him not a word.

He put his silver watch on the table.

'I'll give yer two minutes,' he said.

There was silence in the cottage except for the choking, hysterical
sounds she could not master. Then he took up his hat again, and went out
into the snow, which was by now falling fast.

She remained helpless and sobbing, unconscious of the passage of time,