Olive had a genius for dress. Her gowns had not only style, which might be due to the costumier, but also effect, which is entirely personal. They invariably harmonized with the occasion, or with the way she sought to mould the occasion. Sometimes she had snapped her fingers at fashion, taken matters with the high hand—and carried the occasion triumphantly. The illustrated weeklies published portraits of her when the theatrical market was dull.

It was characteristic of Olive that although she was going to visit a blinded girl with bandaged eyes, yet when she left the Hotel Quisisana at Wiesbaden for the surgical home she had dressed studiously for the occasion. The part to be dressed was that of "the outraged wife." The gown was of clinging grey cashmere, cut with simplicity and dignity, with touches of soft violet to suggest sensitive inner feelings. The hat was of grey straw with willowy feathers drooping softly from it. She wore no jewellery beyond a simple pearl brooch and her wedding-ring.

Dressed thus, she felt ready for any cruelty.

A nurse showed her into the room where Elaine lay on her chaise longue with bandages hiding the upper part of her face.

"Do you suffer much?" asked Olive softly, when the nurse had left them alone.

"Thank you—there is no pain now. Only waiting for the day of release, when my bandages are to be removed."

"It must be terrible to know that one's sight can never be restored."

"I don't expect it. But I shall have a fair measure of sight. Dr. Hegelmann promises it."

"Still, it's best not to raise one's hopes too high. Doctors have to be optimistic as part of their trade. I remember one very sad case where——" Olive stopped herself abruptly as though her tongue had run away with her. "Pardon me—I was forgetting."

"I know," affirmed Elaine happily.

"You know what?"

"That I shall have a fair measure of sight. The doctor tells me recovery depends largely on the mental condition. I was worrying myself up till a few days ago, but now I'm supremely happy. So I shall recover—I've something to live for, you see!" Elaine reached for the vase by her side and raised a spray of white lilac to breathe in its fragrance.

The happiness so evident on Elaine's lips stirred Olive uneasily.

"Then you've had good news from outside? I'm very glad to hear it," she said.

"Good news? Why, yes, thanks to you! I want first to thank you for your generosity. I was worrying so until I heard the news from John."

"From whom?"

"Your husband. You see, he will always be John RiviÈre to me. That's how I knew him during these wonderful days at Arles and NÎmes." Her voice became dreamy with memories. "I met him first, you know, at the arena at Arles. We sat for hours in the flooding sunlight reconstructing our pictures of the past. The stone tiers were vivid orange in the sunlight and deep purple in the shadows. A deep, greyish purple. We sat apart, I longing for him to speak to me and exchange thoughts. But there was no one to introduce us. How stupid convention is! At sunset we climbed up to the topmost tier and stood together as though on an island tower in the midst of a sea of marshland. I ached to speak to him, and still we remained silent and apart. That night came the introduction I longed for. I was wandering about the dark, narrow lanes of Arles when a half-drunken peasant tried to attack me. I cried out for help, and John came to my defence with his strong arm and his clenched fist. There was no need for formal introduction after that. We found we were staying at the same hotel...."

Olive made no comment.

Elaine continued: "NÎmes is fragrant with its memories for me. The Jardin de la Fontaine, the Maison CarrÉe, the Druids' Tower, the dear Villa ClÉmentine! There was a little pebbly garden and a fountain by which we used to sit for lunch—there were two lazy old goldfish I used to feed with crumbs. Darby and Joan!... Those memories of NÎmes wash away the burn of the vitriol, now that you've been so kind and generous."

"I fail to understand," said Olive coldly. The interview was shaping itself very differently to what she had expected.

Elaine turned her bandaged head towards her in surprise. "But John tells me you've offered to release him!"

"Offered to release him! My dear Miss Verney, Clifford must have been saying pretty things to soothe you. I'm sorry to pour cold water on your dreams, but you'll have to learn the truth some time, and it's kinder to tell you now. Release him! My husband is not an employee to be handed over to somebody else at a moment's notice. There are such things as marriage laws ... and divorce laws."

"Aren't we talking at cross-purposes, Mrs Matheson? I quite understand all that. John tells me that you have promised to divorce him. That's very generous of you."

"You seem to ignore the point that a divorce suit involves a co-respondent."

"No; not at all. I wanted to see you in order to thank you; and then to arrange the details so that the matter can go through with as little trouble as possible. Of course, after your kindness, I shall let the suit go undefended."

Olive searched the bandaged face of her rival with merciless scrutiny. But the blinded girl seemed unconscious of that look of stabbing hatred and suspicion. She was apparently smiling happily—weaving day-dreams. Her hand went out to the vase of white lilac caressingly.

For that was the part Elaine had set herself to play for the sake of the man she loved. He had been beaten down to his knees by Larssen and Olive in the shipowner's office because he had had Elaine to protect. To save her from the mire of the divorce court he had had to give in and sign at Larssen's dictation.

Now she was determined to release him for free action. Whatever it might cost her in self-respect, she was going to make Olive believe that a divorce suit was the one thing she most ardently desired.

"I shall let the divorce suit go undefended," she had said, smiling happily.

Olive made a decisive effort to regain the whip-hand. "Divorce by collusion is out of the question!" she retorted sharply. "The King's Proctor sees to that. You don't imagine that it's sufficient merely to say you don't defend the suit? There must be evidence before the Court."

Elaine bowed her head.

"There is evidence," she said in a low voice.

"At Arles, NÎmes, or here?"

"At NÎmes."

"Then my husband lied to me! He swore to me on his word of honour that there was nothing between you!"

"John is very chivalrous."

"You tell me he lied?"

"I don't know just what he said to you.... And I want you to realise this: the fault was on my side. I loved him. I love him still. I shall love him always. Always, whatever happens."

Then she added, because in the playing of her part she had determined to spare herself no degradation: "I care nothing for what people say. They may sneer and point at me, but nothing shall keep us apart."

Olive went chalk-white with anger. She had not travelled the long journey to Wiesbaden to be fooled in this way. The ground had been cut from under her feet by Elaine's most unexpected attitude, and the situation needed some drastic counter-move on her part.

"A pretty story!" she retorted. "If you imagine your childish bluffing would deceive me, you've a lot to learn yet! Clifford was not lying, and you are! That's the long and short of it!"

"Then call him here and ask him before me!"

Olive saw her opportunity. She could find out RiviÈre's address from Dr. Hegelmann or from one of the staff of the nursing home, and go to confront him before Elaine could see and warn him of the new development. It would be strategic to allay suspicion of her coming move, however.

"I want to see nothing more of Clifford," she replied. "We've agreed to part. He's to go on with his life as John RiviÈre. If you like to marry him as John RiviÈre, you're quite welcome to do so as far as I'm concerned."

"You mean that you want to get permission from the Courts to presume death, and then take possession of his property?"

"Any such arrangement is entirely a private matter between my husband and myself."

"I doubt if John would agree to that arrangement now. He would make you a suitable allowance, of course."

Olive could have choked this girl lying helpless in her chair, and yet holding the whip-hand in their triangle of conflicting interests. She felt as if she had been tripped and thrown without a word of warning. To have travelled to Wiesbaden to play the outraged wife sitting in judgment on the woman who had sinned, and now——!

If only Larssen were here to advise her!

She tried another move, altering her voice to as much sweetness as she could command under her white-hot anger.

"My dear, I appreciate your feelings," she said. "You want to fight for the man you love. You'd even blacken your character for his sake. You'd face the sneers of the world for his sake. I admire you for it. It brings us nearer together. I admit that I had misjudged you a little. That was because I hadn't seen you and spoken to you. Now I know what a fine character you are, and I want you not to bring unnecessary suffering on yourself. I'm older than you, and I've seen very much more of the world. I know that a good woman can't live with a married man for long. The situation becomes intolerable after a time. One can't ignore the conventions of the world one lives in."

"I'm ready to face all that. I've counted the cost."

"But is Clifford ready to? Think of him. Think of his work. He would not only be ostracised socially, but also scientifically. His work would be ignored. You would destroy his life-work. You would kill his ambition!"

Olive's thrust went home, though not to the exact point she aimed at. Elaine remained silent as the thought raced through her of how Olive, if she deemed it to her own interests, might kill RiviÈre's work.

"So you see, dear," pursued Olive, "that our interests are really very much the same. We both care deeply for Clifford. We both want to help him in his life-work. We both want to do our best for him. That means that we must pull together and not against one another. We must each of us think matters out coolly and dispassionately. Isn't that what you think as well as I?"

"Yes," admitted Elaine.

"Then I'll say good-bye for the present. I mustn't stay longer or Dr. Hegelmann will call me over the coals. I have to remember that you're not altogether strong again yet. So I'll say good-bye now and call again to-morrow morning."

"Good-bye."

"Do you like lilies? I must send you some. As I passed a florist's in the Wilhelmstrasse I saw some splendid tiger-lilies. Good-bye, my dear."

Elaine waited with feverish impatience for three minutes to elapse, when she judged Olive would be clear of the house. Then she rang a bell by her side. She must get a message through to RiviÈre to let him know of the new development in the situation before Olive could reach him with her story. RiviÈre knew nothing beforehand of Elaine's plan of self-accusation; it was vital that he should know of it now, when it had been carried to so effective an end.

The nurse came to answer the call.

"I want to telephone," said Elaine in her halting German.

"But the telephone is downstairs!"

"You must lead me there, nurse."

"No; I cannot do that. It is against orders. The doctor has forbidden you to leave this room, FraÜlein."

"I must! I tell you I must! It's——It's—oh, what is the German for 'vital?'"

The nurse shook her head uncomprehendingly.

Elaine rose from her couch and stumbled with outstretched arms against the nurse.

"Please lead me to the telephone and get me my number!" she cried in an agony of anxiety.

"It is against orders. Come, you must lie down again and keep quiet."

There was a brisk rap at the door, and Dr. Hegelmann came in to see how his patient was progressing.

"What's this?" he exclaimed, seeing Elaine standing up and the nurse trying to persuade her to return to her couch.

"Doctor, please let me telephone!"

"To whom?"

"To Mr RiviÈre. I must speak to him quickly—I must!"

"Nurse, do as FraÜlein asks," he ordered briefly.

The nurse made no comment, but led her patient downstairs at once, found the telephone number of the laboratory at which RiviÈre had his research-bench, and called for the connection.

"What do they say?" asked Elaine after a torturing wait.

"They ask me to hold the line."

Again a very long wait.

"What do they say?" asked Elaine again.

"Wait a little.... Yes, I'm here." ... "Mr RiviÈre has just left the laboratory."

"Where has he gone?" prompted Elaine.

"Where has he gone?" ... "They do not know."

"But I must find him!" cried Elaine. "Try his hotel, please."

The hotel people knew nothing of RiviÈre's whereabouts.

"Say to them to give him the message to telephone me the moment he arrives."

The nurse gave the message and the telephone number of the home. Suddenly she felt her patient sway heavily against her. The reaction had set in from the feverish tension of the last hour—Elaine had fainted away.