verting her eyes. "But
doesn't it do one good to hear such a story, Norbert?" she added
impulsively.

"Yes, that's pluck," replied her husband, with the old spontaneity, in
his eyes the old honest look which hitherto had somehow been a little
obscured. "I know very well that _I_ couldn't have done it." Warburton
had not looked at Rosamund since her explanation and apology. He was
afraid of meeting her eyes; afraid as a generous man who shrinks from
inflicting humiliation. For was it conceivable that Rosamund could
support his gaze without feeling humiliated? Remembering what had
preceded that discovery at the shop; bearing in mind what had followed
upon it; he reflected with astonishment on the terms of her
self-reproach. It sounded so genuine; to the ears of her husband it
must have been purest, womanliest sincerity. As though she could read
his thoughts, Rosamund addressed him again in the most naturally
playful tone.

"And you have been in the Basque country since we saw you. I'm so glad
you really took your holiday there at last; you often used to speak of
doing so. And you met my sister--Winifred wrote to me all about it. The
Coppingers were delighted to see you. Don't you think them nice people?
Did poor Mrs. Coppinger seem any better?"

In spite of himself, Will encountered her look, met the beautiful eyes,
felt their smile envelop him. Never till now had he known the passive
strength of woman, that characteristic which at times makes her a force
of Nature rather than an individual being. Amazed, abashed, he let his
head fall--and mumbled something about Mrs. Coppinger's state of health.

He did not stay much longer. When he took his leave, it would have
seemed natural if Franks had come out to walk a little way with him,
but his friend bore him company only to the door.

"Let us see you as often as possible, old man. I hope you'll often come
and lunch on Sunday; nothing could please us better."

Franks' handgrip was very cordial, the look and tone were affectionate,
but Will said to himself that the old intimacy was at an end; it must
now give place to mere acquaintanceship. He suspected that Franks was
afraid to come out and walk with him, afraid that it might not please
his wife. That Rosamund was to rule--very sweetly of course, but
unmistakably--no one could doubt who saw the two together for five
minutes. It would be, in all likelihood, a happy subjugation, for
Norbert was of anything but a rebelliou