any tie there may be between us. If this
explanation that you promise comes--in time, and I feel like it, very
well. Until it does, I am perfectly free, and you, as my husband, are
non-existent. That is my reply, Henry, to your request for further
indulgence."

"Rather a foolish one, my dear," he answered, patting her shoulder, "but
then you are rather a child, aren't you?"

She swung away from him angrily.

"Don't touch me!" she exclaimed. "I mean every word of what I have said.
As for my being a child--well, you may be sorry some day that you have
persisted in treating me like one."

Sir Henry paused for a moment, watching her disappearing figure. There
was an unusual shade of trouble in his face. His love for and confidence
in his wife had been so absolute that even her threats had seemed to him
like little morsels of wounded vanity thrown to him out of the froth
of her temper. Yet at that moment a darker thought crossed his mind.
Lessingham, he realised, was not a rival, after all, to be despised. He
was a man of courage and tact, even though Sir Henry, in his own mind,
had labelled him as a fool. If indeed he were coming back to Dreymarsh,
what could it be for? How much had Philippa known about him? He stood
there for a few moments in indecision. A great impulse had come to him
to break his pledge, to tell her the truth. Then he made his disturbed
way into the breakfast room.

"Where's your mother, Nora?" he asked, as Helen took Philippa's place at
the head of the table.

"She wants some coffee and toast sent up to her room." Nora explained.
"The wind made her giddy."

Sir Henry breakfasted in silence, rang the bell, and ordered his car.

"You going away again, Daddy?" Nora asked.

"I am going to London this morning," he replied, a little absently.

"To London?" Helen repeated. "Does Philippa know?"

"I haven't told her yet."

Helen turned towards Nora.

"I wish you'd run up and see if your mother wants any more coffee,
there's a dear," she suggested.

Nora acquiesced at once. As soon as she had left the room, Helen leaned
over and laid her hand upon Sir Henry's arm.

"Don't go to London, Henry," she begged.

"But my dear Helen, I must," he replied, a little curtly.

"I wouldn't if I were you," she persisted. "You know, you've tried
Philippa very high lately, and she is in an extremely emotional state.
She is all worked up about last night, and I wouldn't leave her alone if
I were you."

Sir