I shall be quite
alone."

"Thank you, Caroline."

She spoke rather doubtfully and paused. But finally she said:

"I will with pleasure. What time?"

"Half-past eight."

When Miss Briggs had gone Lady Sellingworth gave way to an almost
desperate fit of despondency. She felt ashamed of herself, like a
sensitive person found out in some ugly fault. She sat down, and almost
for the first time in her life mentally she wrestled with herself.

Something, she did not quite know what, in Caroline Briggs's look, or
manner, or surmised mental attitude that day, had gone home to her.
And that remark, "He may be her husband," followed by, "she may be very
rich, too," had dropped upon her like a stone.

It had never occurred to her that the old woman in the wig might be the
young man's wife. But she now realized that it was quite possible.

She had always known, since she had known Caroline, that her friend was
one of those few women who are wholly free from illusions. Miss Briggs
had not only never fallen into follies; she had avoided natural joys.
She had perhaps even been the slave of her self-respect. Never at all
good-looking though certainly not ugly, she had been afraid of the
effect of her wealth upon men. And because she was so rich she had
never chosen to marry. She was possibly too much of a cynic, but she
had always preserved her personal dignity. No one had ever legitimately
laughed at her, and no one had ever had the chance of contemptuously
pitying her. She must have missed a great deal, but now in middle-age
she was surround by friends who respected her.

That was something.

And--Lady Sellingworth was sure of it--Caroline was not ravaged by the
Furies who attack "foolish" middle-aged women.

What did Caroline Briggs think of her? What must she think?

Caroline knew well nearly all the members of the "old guard," and most
of them were fond of her. She had never got in any woman's way with
a man, and she was never condemnatory. So among women she was a very
popular woman. Many people confided in her. Lady Sellingworth had never
done this. But now she wished that she could bring herself to do it.
Caroline must certainly know her horribly well. Perhaps she could be
helped by Caroline.

She needed help, for she was abominably devoid of moral courage.

She did not quite know why at this particular moment she was overwhelmed
by a feeling of degradation; she only knew that she was overwhelmed.
She felt asha