He went to his business with the mien of a man who had passed through an
ordeal and is beginning life again; but when he returned at night, as
soon as he beheld Selma, he suspected what had happened.
She was awaiting him in the parlor. Though he saw at a glance that she
looked grave, he went forward to kiss her, but she rose and, stepping
behind the table, put out her hand forbiddingly.
"What is the matter?" he faltered.
"That woman has been here," was her slow, scornful response.
"Selma, I--" A confusing sense of hopelessness as to what to say choked
Babcock's attempt to articulate. There was a brief silence, while he
looked at her imploringly and miserably.
"Is it true what she says? Have you been false to your marriage vows?
Have you committed adultery?"
"My God! Selma, you don't understand."
"It is an easy question to answer, yes or no?"
"I forgot myself, Selma. I was drunk and crazy. I ask your pardon."
She shook her head coldly. "I shall have nothing more to do with you. I
cannot live with you any longer."
"Not live with me?"
"Would you live with me if it were I who had forgotten myself?"
"I think I would, Selma. You don't understand. I was a brute. I have
been wretched ever since.
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