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all. I'm an awful coward. That's partly
the trouble with Philip. I'm terrified of
him — absolutely terrified — when he gets
in one of his rages."
Harold said with feeling:
"You ought to leave him!"
"I daren't. He — he wouldn't let me."
' "Nonsense! What about a divorce ?"
She shook her head slowly.
"I've no grounds." She straightened
her shoulders. "No, I've got to carry on. I
spend a fair amount of time with Mother, you know. Philip doesn't mind that. Especially
when we go somewhere off the
beaten track like this." She added, the
colour rising in her cheeks, "You see, part of the trouble is that he's insanely
jealous. If--if I so much as speak to
another man he makes the most frightful
Harold's indignation rose. He had heard
many women complain of the jealousy of
a husband, and whilst professing sympathy, had been secretly of the opinion that the
husband was amply justified. But Elsie
Clayton was one of those women. She had never thrown him so much as a flirtatious
Elsie drew away from him with a slight
shiver. She glanced up at the sky.
"The sun's gone in. It's quite cold.
We'd better get back to the hotel. It must
be nearly lunch time."
They got up and turned in the direction
of the hotel. They had walked for perhaps
a minute when they overtook a figure
going in the same direction. They recognised
her by the napping cloak she wore.
It was one of the Polish sisters.
They passed her, Harold bowing slightly.
She made no response but her eyes rested
on them both for a minute and there was
a certain appraising quality in the glance
which made Harold feel suddenly hot.
He wondered if the woman had seen him
sitting by Elsie on the tree trunk. If so, she probably thought...
Well, she looked as though she thought.
... A wave of indignation overwhelmed
him! What foul minds some women had!
Odd that the sun had gone in and that they should both have shivered -- perhaps
just at the moment that that woman was
Somehow, Harold felt a little uneasy.
That evening, Harold went to his room a
little after ten. The English mail had
arrived and he had received a number of
letters, some of which needed immediate
He got into his pyjamas and a dressing218
gown and sat down at the desk to deal with
his correspondence. He had written three
letters and was just starting on the fourth
when the door was suddenly flung open
and Elsie Clayton staggered into the room.
Harold jumped up, startled. Elsie had
pushed the door to behind her and was
standing clutching at the chest of drawers.
Her breath was coming in great gasps, her
face was the colour of chalk. She looked
frightened to death.
She gasped out: "It's my husband! He
arrived unexpectedly. I — I think he'll
kill me. He's mad — quite mad. I came to
you. Don't — don't let him find me." She took a step or two forward, swaying
so much that she almost fell. Harold put
out an arm to support her.
As he did so, the door was flung open
and a ma...
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