rdell, has him in tow. He is bringing him up to London, I think."

She nodded.

"What are you doing this afternoon?" he asked.

She looked at him curiously.

"Mr. Englehall has asked me to go out in his car," she said. "I am rather
tired of motoring, but I think I shall go."

Mannering lit a cigarette which he had just taken from his case.

"I don't think I should," he remarked.

She turned her head slowly, and looked at him.

"Why not?" she asked. "How can it concern you? Your plans for the
afternoon are, I presume, already made!"

"It may not concern me directly," he answered, "but I have an idea that
Mr. Englehall is not exactly the sort of person I care to have you
driving about with."

She laughed hardly.

"I am most flattered by your interest in me," she declared. "Pray
consider Mr. Englehall disposed of. You have some other plans, perhaps?"

"If you care to," he said, "we will walk down to the club for lunch and
come home by the sea."

"Alone?"

"Certainly! Unless you choose to bring Hester."

She rose slowly to her feet.

"No," she said. "Let us go alone. It will be almost the first time since
we were married, I think. I am curious to see how much I can bore you!
Will you wait here while I find a hat?"

She disappeared inside the hotel. Mannering watched her absently. In
a vague sort of way he was wondering what it was that had made their
married life so completely a failure. He had imagined her as asking very
little from him, content with the shelter of his name and home, content
at any rate without those things of which he had made no mention when he
had spoken to her of marriage. And he was becoming gradually aware that
it was not so. She expected, had hoped for more. The terms which he had
zealously striven to cultivate with her were terms of which she clearly
did not approve. The signs of revolt were already apparent.

Mannering became absorbed in thought. He remembered clearly the feelings
with which he had gone to her and made his offer. He went over it all
again. Surely he had made himself understood? But then there was her
confession to him, the confession of her love. He had ignored that, but
it was unforgetable. Had he not tacitly accepted the whole situation? If
so, was he doing his duty? The shelter of his name and home, what were
those to a warm-hearted woman, if she loved him? He had married her,
loving another woman. She must have known this, but did she understand
that he