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266 "He asked me . . . if I thought . . . that Marianne . . ."

She saw him give a shiver. He understood it all. Nevertheless, she went on:

"That Marianne could get to care for him . . . He asked me to go to Bertha . . . and ask her . . ."

"Van Vreeswijck? Marianne?" he repeated; and his eyes were almost black. "Asked you . . . to go to Bertha? . . . Well, you're not mixing yourself up in it, are you? You're not going, surely?"

"I went this morning," she said; and her voice once more sounded discordant.

He seemed to hear a hostile note in it. And, unable to contain himself, he flew into a passion:

"You went? You went this morning?" he raved; and even in his raving she saw the suffering. "Why need you mix yourself up in it? What business has Van Vreeswijck to come asking you? . . . Van Vreeswijck . . ."

He could not find the words. All that he could get out was a rough word, cruel, hard and insulting:

"Plotting and scheming . . . if you want to go plotting . . ."

Her eyes flamed; she felt his intention to insult her. But his suffering was so obvious, she saw him so plainly writhing under his pain, that the angry