He could not have started back in more surprise and dismay had she
struck him, than when he heard her call him a coward and saw her
intense anger.

With a great effort she mastered the wild rush of words that sprang to
her lips, and bowing to him derisively said, as she looked into his
face: "Truly a most gallant husband and a gentleman! And so, forsooth,
you would desert your wife because she has forgotten the memory of her
dead boy--whom she never truly loved--and because she thirsts after
pleasure and excitement! What wondrous discernment! What a wise judge
of human nature!" Her ironical laugh was now true in intonation.

"Utterly heartless," he whispered, almost wonderingly as he sank down
on his chair.

She caught the words and said easily: "Yes, thanks to my husband,
utterly heartless." Then calmly drawing a chair near to his, she said
in an amused tone: "And let me tell you how this interesting
metaphysical transformation was brought about."

His anger had died away and he looked at her pityingly.

"I shall have to go back to two years ago," she continued, "for up to
that time you never doubted the existence of my heart--in fact, you
will remember you more than once told me that I was too
tender-hearted, and that you hoped deep sorrow would never come to me,
because I had the capacity to suffer more than most women. The great
change came with my boy's death."