I--I--" He rose, shaking off the arm of his wife and the hand of the friend he had wronged so terribly.

He broke away from them and strode to the window, his face set and white.

"I think I was mad," he said.

"I know I was mad.

But to have done what I did--" He shuddered in very horror of himself now that he was bereft of the support of that evil jealousy that had fortified him against conscience itself and the very voice of honour.