"
Ellen stared at him blankly.
"Have you gone dotty, Alfred?" she murmured.
He shook his head.
"No," he replied gently. "If anything, I am a great deal wiser than
ever I was before. Only there are penalties. It is about these
penalties that I want to talk to you."
Ellen's arms became crooked and her knuckles were screwed into her
waist. It was an unfortunate and inherited habit of hers, which
reappeared frequently under circumstances of emotion.
"Will you answer this one question?" she insisted. "Why has all this
made you leave your wife and home? Tell me that, will you?"
Burton went for his last fence gallantly.
"Because our life here is hideous," he declared, "and I can't stand it.
Our house is ugly, our furniture impossible, the neighborhood atrocious.
Your clothes are all wrong and so are Alfred's. I could not possibly
live here any longer in the way we have been living up to now."
Ellen gave a little gasp.
"Then what are you doing here now?"
"I cannot come back to you," he continued. "I want you to come to me.
This is the part of my story which will sound miraculous, if not
ridiculous to you, but you will have to take my word for it. Try and
remember for a moment that there are things in life beyond the pale of
our knowledge, things which we must accept simply by faith.
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