He looked up at her with a sick stare, and she sank down, all dew and roses, and hid her face against his knee.

“Oh, my dear,” he said, holding her to him while his cold hand stroked her hair.

There was a long pause, which the inner devils filled with strident laughter; then May freed herself from his arms and stood up.

“You didn’t guess—?”

“Yes—I; no. That is, of course I hoped—”

They looked at each other for an instant and again fell silent; then, turning his eyes from hers, he asked abruptly: “Have you told any one else?”

“Only Mamma and your mother.” She paused, and then added hurriedly, the blood flushing up to her forehead: “That is—and Ellen. You know I told you we’d had a long talk one afternoon—and how dear she was to me.”

“Ah—” said Archer, his heart stopping.

He felt that his wife was watching him intently. “Did you MIND my telling her first, Newland?”

“Mind? Why should I?” He made a last effort to collect himself. “But that was a fortnight ago, wasn’t it? I thought you said you weren’t sure till today.”

Her colour burned deeper, but she held his gaze. “No; I wasn’t sure then—but I told her I was. And you see I was right!” she exclaimed, her blue eyes wet with victory. “And now Newland, I think I would like for us to celebrate.”

“How do you mean?”

She began unbuttoning her dress.

“Oh, May. I’m rather tired. Perhaps—”

“I’ll sit in your lap.”

“But you must be tired. The baby . . .”

She finished undressing and stood before him completely naked. “I need to feel you next to me,” she said. “You do know how I enjoy your touch.”

“Yes, but—”

She approached him, and began unfastening his trousers. He grasped her wrist to stop her. She pulled away from him almost violently.

“You want me to have a mind of my own,” she said. “You said that to me, Newland.” She looked at him intently. When she reached for his trousers again, he didn’t resist. She finished unfastening his attire only to discover for the first time in their marriage, he was not aroused, but hung soft and limp.

“Oh, Newland. I never expected . . .”

“I’m sorry, dear. I’m so weary.”

She began stroking his staff to no avail. She kneeled before him, took the crown of his manhood into her mouth, and began to suck, lightly at first, and then more vigorously. But he still did not become aroused, he remained limp. She massaged his jewels, but that did not help either.

Frustrated with May’s persistence and his failure to break with the Countess, Newland felt an anger rising, although he restrained himself. “I’m sorry, perhaps another night.”

May rose up. “What’s wrong, Newland? This has never happened before. Do I not please you?”

“I’m worried about you, about the baby.”

“Nonsense. The doctor said I could still pleasure my husband, at least for now.”