It was one evening as she was putting things away in the kitchen before going up to bed that she heard some one rap at the window. Could this be Fred? Her heart was beating; she must let him in. The area was in darkness; she could see no one.

"Who is there?" she cried.

"It's only me. I had to see you to-night on——"

She drew an easier breath, and asked him to come in.

William had expected a rougher reception. The tone in which Esther invited him in was almost genial, and there was no need of so many excuses; but he had come prepared with excuses, and a few ran off his tongue before he was aware.

"Well," said Esther, "it is rather late. I was just going up to bed; but you can tell me what you've come about, if it won't take long."

"It won't take long…. I've seen my solicitor this afternoon, and he says that I shall find it very difficult to get a divorce."

"So you can't get your divorce?"

"Are you glad?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean? You must be either glad or sorry."

"I said what I mean. I am not given to telling lies." Esther set the large tin candlestick, on which a wick was spluttering, on the kitchen table, and William looked at her inquiringly. She was always a bit of a mystery to him. And then he told her, speaking very quickly, how he had neglected to secure proofs of his wife's infidelity at the time; and as she had lived a circumspect although a guilty life ever since, the solicitor thought that it would be difficult to establish a case against her.

"Perhaps she never was guilty," said Esther, unable to resist the temptation to irritate.

"Not guilty! what do you mean? Haven't I told you how I found them the day I came up from Ascot?… And didn't she own up to it? What more proof do you want?"

"Anyway, it appears you haven't enough; what are you going to do? Wait until you catch her out?"

"There is nothing else to do, unless——" William paused, and his eyes wandered from Esther's.

"Unless what?"

"Well, you see my solicitors have been in communication with her solicitors, and her solicitors say that if it were the other way round, that if I gave her reason to go against me for a divorce, she would be glad of the chance. That's all they said at first, but since then I've seen my wife, and she says that if I'll give her cause to get a divorce she'll not only go for it, but will pay all the legal expenses; it won't cost us a penny. What do you think Esther?"

"I don't know that I understand. You don't mean——"

"You see, Esther, that to get a divorce—there's no one who can hear us, is there?"

"No, there's no one in the 'ouse except me and the missus, and she's in the study reading. Go on."

"It seems that one of the parties must go and live with another party before either can get a divorce. Do you understand?"

"You don't mean that you want me to go and live with you, and perhaps get left a second time?"

"That's all rot, Esther, and you knows it."

"If that's all you've got to say to me you'd better take your hook."

"Do you see, there's the child to consider? And you know well enough, Esther, that you've nothing to fear; you knows as well as can be that I mean to run straight this time. So I did before. But let bygones be bygones, and I know you'd like the child to have a father; so if only for his sake——"

"For his sake! I like that; as if I hadn't done enough for him. Haven't I worked and slaved myself to death and gone about in rags? That's what that child has cost me. Tell me what he's cost you. Not a penny piece—a toy boat and a suit of velveteen knickerbockers,—and yet you come telling me—I'd like to know what's expected of me. Is a woman never to think of herself? Do I count for nothing? For the child's sake, indeed! Now, if it was anyone else but you. Just tell me where do I come in? That's what I want to know. I've played the game long enough. Where do I come in? That's what I want to know."

"There's no use flying in a passion, Esther. I know you've had a hard time. I know it was all very unlucky from the very first. But there's no use saying that you might get left a second time, for you know well enough that that ain't true. Say you won't do it; you're a free woman, you can act as you please. It would be unjust to ask you to give up anything more for the child; I agree with you in all that. But don't fly in a rage with me because I came to tell you there was no other way out of the difficulty."

"You can go and live with another woman, and get a divorce that way."

"Yes, I can do that; but I first thought I'd speak to you on the subject. For if I did go and live with another woman I couldn't very well desert her after getting a divorce."

"You deserted me."

"Why go back on that old story?"

"It ain't an old story, it's the story of my life, and I haven't come to the end of it yet."

"But you'll have got to the end of it if you'll do what I say."

A moment later Esther said—

"I don't know what you want to get a divorce for at all. I daresay your wife would take you back if you were to ask her."

"She's no children, and never will have none, and marriage is a poor look-out without children—all the worry and anxiety for nothing. What do we marry for but children? There's no other happiness. I've tried everything else—"

"But I haven't."

"I know all that. I know you've had a damned hard time, Esther. I've had a good week at Doncaster, and have enough money to buy my partner out; we shall 'ave the 'ouse to ourselves, and, working together, I don't think we'll 'ave much difficulty in building it up into a very nice property, all of which will in time go to the boy. I'm doing pretty well, I told you, in the betting line, but if you like I'll give it up. I'll never lay or take the odds again. I can't say more, Esther, can I? Come, say yes," he said, reaching his arm towards her.

"Don't touch me," she said surlily, and drew back a step with air of resolution that made him doubt if he would be able to persuade her.

"Now, Esther——" William did not finish. It seemed useless to argue with her, and he looked at the great red ash of the tallow candle.

"You are the mother of my boy, so it is different; but to advise me to go and live with another woman! I shouldn't have thought it of a religious girl like you."

"Religion! There's very little time for religion in the places I've had to work in." Then, thinking of Fred, she added that she had returned to Christ, and hoped He would forgive her. William encouraged her to speak of herself, remarking that, chapel or no chapel, she seemed just as severe and particular as ever. "If you won't, I can only say I am sorry; but that shan't prevent me from paying you as much a week as you think necessary for Jack's keep and his schooling. I don't want the boy to cost you anything. I'd like to do a great deal more for the boy, but I can't do more unless you make him my child."

"And I can only do that by going away to live with you?" The words brought an instinctive look of desire into her eyes.

"In six months we shall be man and wife…. Say yes."

"I can't… I can't, don't ask me."

"You're afraid to trust me, is that it?"

Esther did not answer.

"I can make that all right: I'll settle £500 on you and the child."

She looked up; the same look was in her eyes, only modified, softened by some feeling of tenderness which had come into her heart.

He put his arm round her; she was leaning against the table; he was sitting on the edge.

"You know that I mean to act rightly by you."

"Yes, I think you do."

"Then say yes."

"I can't—it is too late."

"There's another chap?"

She nodded.

"I thought as much. Do you care for him?"

She did not answer.

He drew her closer to him; she did not resist; he could see that she was weeping. He kissed her on her neck first, and then on her face; and he continued to ask her if she loved the other chap. At last she signified that she did not.

"Then say yes." She murmured that she could not. "You can, you can, you can." He kissed her, all the while reiterating, "You can, you can, you can," until it became a sort of parrot cry. Several minutes elapsed, and the candle began to splutter in its socket. She said—

"Let me go; let me light the gas."

As she sought for the matches she caught sight of the clock.

"I did not know it was so late."

"Say yes before I go."

"I can't."

And it was impossible to extort a promise from her. "I'm too tired," she said, "let me go."

He took her in his arms and kissed her, and said, "My own little wife."

As he went up the area steps she remembered that he had used the same words before. She tried to think of Fred, but William's great square shoulders had come between her and this meagre little man. She sighed, and felt once again that her will was overborne by a force which she could not control or understand.