stage. In face of what was coming he felt as awkward
and embarrassed as a boy.

After a pause Madame Olenska broke out with
unexpected vehemence: "I want to be free; I want to wipe
out all the past."

"I understand that."

Her face warmed. "Then you'll help me?"

"First--" he hesitated--"perhaps I ought to know a
little more."

She seemed surprised. "You know about my husband--
my life with him?"

He made a sign of assent.

"Well--then--what more is there? In this country
are such things tolerated? I'm a Protestant--our church
does not forbid divorce in such cases."

"Certainly not."

They were both silent again, and Archer felt the
spectre of Count Olenski's letter grimacing hideously
between them. The letter filled only half a page, and
was just what he had described it to be in speaking of it
to Mr. Letterblair: the vague charge of an angry