st a little. To her credit, she did
entirely carry out in her life her professed belief that husbands should
be the forefronts of their wives. For all that, there burst from her
lips the words:

"That Freeland woman! When I think of the mischief she's always done
here, by her example and her irreligion--I can't forgive her. I don't
believe you'll make any impression on Mr. Freeland; he's entirely under
her thumb."

Smoking slowly, and looking just over the top of his wife's head,
Malioring answered:

"I'll have a try; and don't you worry!"

Lady Malloring turned away. Her soreness still wanted salve.

"Those two young people," she murmured, "said some very unpleasant things
to me. The boy, I believe, might have some good in him, but the girl is
simply terrible."

"H'm! I think just the reverse, you know."

"They'll come to awful grief if they're not brought up sharp. They ought
to be sent to the colonies to learn reality."

Malloring nodded.

"Come out, Mildred, and see how they're getting on with the new vinery."
And they went out together through the French window.

The vinery was of their own designing, and of extraordinary interest. In
contemplation of its lofty glass and aluminium-cased pipes the feeling of
soreness left her. It was very pleasant, standing with Gerald, looking
at what they had planned together; there was a soothing sense of reality
about that visit, after the morning's happening, with its disappointment,
its reminder of immorality and discontent, and of folk ungrateful for
what was done for their good. And, squeezing her husband's arm, she
murmured:

"It's really exactly what we thought it would be, Gerald!"

CHAPTER XIII

About five o'clock of that same afternoon, Gerald Malloring went to see
Tod. An open-air man himself, who often deplored the long hours he was
compelled to spend in the special atmosphere of the House of Commons, he
rather envied Tod his existence in this cottage, crazed from age, and
clothed with wistaria, rambler roses, sweetbrier, honeysuckle, and
Virginia creeper. Freeland had, in his opinion, quite a jolly life of
it--the poor fellow not being able, of course, to help having a cranky
wife and children like that. He pondered, as he went along, over a talk
at Becket, when Stanley, still under the influence of Felix's outburst,
had uttered some rather queer sayings. For instance, he had supposed
that they (meaning, apparently, himself and Ma