Richmond Park with
Mr. Bosinney."

Aunt Hester, who had also risen, sank back in her chair, and turned her
face away. Really Juley was too--she should not do such things when
she--Aunt Hester, was in the room; and, breathless with anticipation, she
waited for what Soames would answer.

He had flushed the peculiar flush which always centred between his eyes;
lifting his hand, and, as it were, selecting a finger, he bit a nail
delicately; then, drawling it out between set lips, he said: "Mrs.
MacAnder is a cat!"

Without waiting for any reply, he left the room.

When he went into Timothy's he had made up his mind what course to pursue
on getting home. He would go up to Irene and say:

"Well, I've won my case, and there's an end of it! I don't want to be
hard on Bosinney; I'll see if we can't come to some arrangement; he
shan't be pressed. And now let's turn over a new leaf! We'll let the
house, and get out of these fogs. We'll go down to Robin Hill at once.
I--I never meant to be rough with you! Let's shake hands--and--"
Perhaps she would let him kiss her, and forget!

When he came out of Timothy's his intentions were no longer so simple.
The smouldering jealousy and suspicion of months blazed up within him.
He would put an end to that sort of thing once and for all; he would not
have her drag his name in the dirt! If she could not or would not love
him, as was her duty and his right--she should not play him tricks with
anyone else! He would tax her with it; threaten to divorce her! That
would make her behave; she would never face that. But--but--what if she
did? He was staggered; this had not occurred to him.

What if she did? What if she made him a confession? How would he stand
then? He would have to bring a divorce!

A divorce! Thus close, the word was paralyzing, so utterly at variance
with all the principles that had hitherto guided his life. Its lack of
compromise appalled him; he felt--like the captain of a ship, going to
the side of his vessel, and, with his own hands throwing over the most
precious of his bales. This jettisoning of his property with his own
hand seemed uncanny to Soames. It would injure him in his profession: He
would have to get rid of the house at Robin Hill, on which he had spent
so much money, so much anticipation--and at a sacrifice. And she! She
would no longer belong to him, not even in name! She would pass out of
his life, and he--he should never see her aga