red Maude, looking round her bed-chamber. "If mamma
fancies she's going to inflict herself upon us for good she's mistaken.
She and I might quarrel, perhaps; for I know she'd try to control me.
Val, what are we to do in this small house?"

"The best we can. We have made the bargain, you know, and taken
possession now."

"You are laughing. I declare I think you are glad it has turned out what
it is!"

"I am not sorry," he avowed. "You'll let me cater for you another time,
Maude."

She put up her face to be kissed. "Don't be angry with me. It is our
home-coming."

"Angry!" he repeated. "I have never shown anger to you yet, Maude. Never
a woman had a more indulgent husband than you shall have in me."

"You don't say a loving one, Val!"

"And a loving one also: if you will only let me be so."

"What do you mean?"

"Love requires love in return. We shall be happy, I am sure, if you so
will it. Only let us pull together; one mind, one interest. Here's your
maid. I wonder where my dressing room is?"

And thus they entered on what remained of the London season. The
newspapers announced the arrival of Lord and Lady Hartledon, and Maude
read it aloud to her husband. She might have retained peace longer,
however, had that announcement not gone forth to the four corners of the
land.

"Only let us pull together!" A very few days indeed sufficed to dissipate
that illusion. Lady Hartledon plunged madly into all the gaieties of the
dying season, as though to make up for lost time; Lord Hartledon never
felt less inclined to plunge into anything, unless it was the waters of
oblivion. He held back from some places, but she did not appear to care,
going her way in a very positive, off-hand manner, according to her own
will, and paying not the slightest deference to his.

CHAPTER XX.

THE STRANGER AGAIN.

On a burning day at the end of June, Lord Hartledon was walking towards
the Temple. He had not yet sought out his friend Thomas Carr; a sense of
shame held him back; but he was on his way to do so now.

Turning down Essex Street and so to the left, he traversed the courts
and windings, and mounted the stairs to the barrister's rooms. Many a
merry hour had he passed in those three small rooms, dignified with the
name of "Mr. Carr's chambers," but which were in fact also Mr. Carr's
dwelling-place--and some sad ones.

Lord Hartledon knocked at the outer door with his stick--a somewhat
faint, doubtful knock; not w