And now, if only her husband proved amenable, proved livable with, how
different everything would be? But in any case Hal must be there.
Somehow nothing of all this showed in her face as she fronted the
smoker, still blowing clouds of smoke before her eyes.

"What has become of Rod?" Hal asked suddenly.

Lorraine winced a little, but held her ground steadily.

"Rod had to go. What could Rod and I have done with £500 a year?"

"My own" - from the blunt-speaking one - "it surely seems as if you
might have thought of that before you allowed Rod to run all over the
country after you, and get 'gated', and very nearly 'sent down', and
spend a year or two's income ahead in trying to give you pleasure."

Lorraine flung herself down on the sofa with a callous air, and beat
her foot on the ground impatiently. The parting with Rod was another
thing she did not propose to describe to Hal. It had hurt too badly,
for one thing.

"When you moralise, Hal, you are detestable. Besides, it's so cheap.
Any one can sit on a table and hurl sarcasm about. I daresay in my
place you would have married Rod, from a sense of duty or something,
and ruined all the rest of his life. Or perhaps, after gently breaking
the news, you'd have let him come dangling round to be 'mothered'.
Well, I don't say I haven't been a bit of a brute to him; but anyhow I
tried to do the square thing in the end. I cut the whole affair dead
off. I told him I would not see him nor write to him again. I've