She looked deep in his eyes, affronted:
"What do you mean?"
"That I don't love you, any longer, enough to live with you. I beg your pardon, Tilly, if I have spoilt your life, if I have shattered your life. I have spoilt and shattered it. I beg your pardon . . . if you can forgive me."
"Only a little while ago . . . you told me that you cared for me."
"I thought so at the time . . . It seemed to mean so much to me."
"And now?"
"Now I don't."
She rebelled with injured pride:
"Then why did you ask me to marry you?"
"Yes, that was just it."
"Just what?"
"The mistake. . . . Tell me, do you still love me?"
"No," she said, proudly.
"So you see: it's better . . ."
"That we should be divorced."
"Don't you think so yourself?"
"And the children?" she asked.
"That's my punishment," he said, gently. "They will remain with you."
"You entrust them to me?"
"I do."
"Addie!" she cried, with a sob.
"You still love me a little, Tilly . . ."
She only sobbed.
"But not so much as you did," he assured her.
"You are in love with Erzeele."
"Erzeele?"
"Yes."
"He is a friend."
"He may become more . . . later," he forced
