business of the soul. And as the wine sank
lower in the bottles, and we cooled our tongues with ices, and the room
began to empty, expectation gleamed and glittered in our eyes. At last,
except a group of men smoking and talking in a corner, we were the only
diners left.

'Shall we go?' Frank said, putting a veil of cigarette smoke between us.

I trembled. I was once more the young and timid girl. I could not
speak. I nodded.

In the hall was Vicary, talking to the head-porter. He saw us and
started.

'What! Vicary!' I murmured, suddenly cooled.

'I want to speak to you,' said Vicary. 'Where can we go?'

'This way,' Frank replied.

We went to our sitting-room, silent and apprehensive.

'Sit down,' said Vicary, shutting the door and standing against it.

He was wearing a tourist suit, with a gray overcoat, and his grizzled
hair was tumbling over his hard, white face.

'What's the matter?' Frank asked. 'Anything wrong?'

'Look here, you two,' said Vicary, 'I don't want to discuss your
position, and I'm the last person in this world to cast the first stone;
but it falls to me to do it. I was coming down to Nice to stay with my
sisters, and I've come a little further. My sisters wired me they had
seen you. I've been to Mentone, and driven here from there. I hoped I
should get here earlier than the newspapers, and I have done, it seems.'

'Earlier than the newspapers?' Frank repeated, standing up.

'Try to keep calm,' Vicary continued. 'Your wife's body was found in the
Thames at seven o'clock last night. The doctors say it had been in the
water for forty-eight hours. Your servants thought she had gone to you.
But doubtless some thoughtful person had told her that you two were
wandering about Europe together.'

'_My wife_' cried Frank.

And the strange and terrible emphasis he put on the word 'wife' proved to
me in the fraction of a second that in his heart I was not his wife. A
fearful tragedy had swept away the structure of argument in favour of the
rights of love which he had built over the original conventionality of
his mind. Poor fellow!

He fell back into his chair and covered his eyes.

'I thank God my mother didn't live to see this!' he cried.

And then he rushed to his bedroom and banged the door.

'My poor girl!' said Vicary, approaching me. 'What can I--I'm awfully--'

I waved him away.

'What's that?' he exclaimed, in a different voice, listening.

I ran to the bedroom, and saw Frank