"And if he has been--what then?" She rises and faces him proudly. "Am
I to answer for his sins?"

"Yes--we all must answer more or less for those who are our friends.
How come you to have his picture? What has he been to you? Not your
lover--for Heaven's sake, Ethel, never _that_!"

"And why not? Mind!" she says, still facing him, her blue eyes
aglitter, "I don't say that he was, but _if_ he was--what then?"

"What then?" He is white to the lips with jealous rage and fear. "This
then--_you should never again be wife of mine_!"

"Victor!" she puts out her hands as if to ward off a blow, "don't say
that--oh, don't say that! And--and it isn't true--he never was a lover
of mine--never, never!"

She bursts out with the denial in passionate fear and trembling. In
all her wedded life she has never seen him look, heard him speak like
this, though she has seen him jealous--needlessly--often.

"He never was your lover? You are telling me the truth?"

"No, no--never! never, Victor--don't look like that! Oh, what brought
that wretched picture here! I knew him slightly--only that--and he
_did_ give me his photograph. How could I tell he was the wretch you
say he is--how could I think there would be any harm in taking a
picture? He seemed nice, Victor. What did he ever do?"

"He seemed nice!" Sir Victor repeated, bitterly; "and what did he ever