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'
'Dear, dear, dear!'
'I want nothing for myself, Lady Milborough.'
'I am sure of that, Louis.'
'My whole happiness was in my home. No man cared less for going out
than I did. My child and my wife were everything to me. I don't suppose
that I was ever seen at a club in the evening once throughout a season.
And she might have had anything that she liked--anything! It is hard;
Lady Milborough; is it not?'
Lady Milborough, who had seen the angry brow, did not dare to suggest
Naples again. But yet, if any word might be spoken to prevent this
utter wreck of a home, how good a thing it would be! He had got up to
leave her, but she stopped him by holding his hand.
'For better, for worse, Louis; remember that.'
'Why has she forgotten it?'
'She is flesh of your flesh, bone of your bone. And for the boy's sake!
Think of your boy, Louis. Do not send that letter. Sleep on it, Louis,
and think of it.'
'I have slept on it.'
'There is no promise in it of forgiveness after a while. It is written
as though you intended that she should never come back to you.


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