I do think that!"--imperiously. "What else can I think?" Her
long-pent jealousy had broken forth at last, and the words raced from
her lips. "You refused to come when I asked you--offered me Jerry as
an escort instead. Jerry!"--scornfully--"I'm to be content with my
husband's secretary, I suppose, so that my husband himself can dance
attendance on Adrienne de Gervais?"

Max stood motionless, his eyes like steel.

"You are being--rather childish," he said at last, with slow
deliberation. His cool, contemptuous tones cut like a whip.

She had been rapidly losing her self-command, and, reading the intense
anger beneath his outward calm, she made an effort to pull herself
together.

"Childish?" she retorted. "Yes, I suppose it is childish to mind being
deceived. I ought to have been prepared for it--expected it."

At the note of suffering in her voice the anger died swiftly out of his
eyes.

"You don't mean that, Diana," he said, more gently.

"Yes, I do. You warned me--didn't you?--that there would be things you
couldn't explain. I suppose"--bitterly--"this is one of them!"

"No, it is not. I can explain this. I didn't intend coming to-night,
as I told you. But Miss de Gervais rang up from the theatre and begged
me to come, so, of course, as she wished it--"

"'As she wished it!' Are her wishes, then, of so much more importance
than mine?"

Errington was silent for a moment. At last he replied quietly:--

"You know they are not. But in this case, in the matter of the play,
she is entitled to every consideration."

Diana's eyes searched his face. Beneath the soft laces of her gown her
breast still rose and fell stormily, but she had herself in hand now.

"Max, when I married you I took . . . something . . . on trust." She
spoke slowly, weighing her words, "But I didn't expect that something
to include--Adrienne! What has she to do with you?"

Errington's brows came sharply together. He drew a quick, short breath
as though bracing himself to meet some unforeseen danger.

"I've written a play for her," he answered shortly.

"Yes, I know. But is that all that there is between you--this play?"

"I can't answer that question," he replied quietly.

Diana flung out her hand with a sudden, passionate gesture.

"You've answered it, I think," she said scornfully.

He took a quick stride towards her, catching her by the arms.

"Diana"--his voice vibrated--"won't you trust me?"

"Trust you!