Thus the feeling of ennui and reaction which had marked the first weeks
of her married life had now wholly disappeared. Delafield was no longer
dull or pedantic in her eyes. She passed alternately from moments of
intolerable smart and pity for the dead to moments of agitation and
expectancy connected with her husband. She thought over their meeting of
the night before; she looked forward to similar hours to come.

Meanwhile his relation towards her in many matters was still naively
ignorant and humble--determined by the simplicity of a man of some real
greatness, who never dreamed of claiming tastes or knowledge he did not
possess, whether in small things or large. This phase, however, only
gave the more value to one which frequently succeeded it. For suddenly
the conversation would enter regions where he felt himself peculiarly at
home, and, with the same unconsciousness on his part, she would be made
to feel the dignity and authority which surrounded his ethical and
spiritual life. And these contrasts--this weakness and this
strength--combined with the man-and-woman element which is always
present in any situation of the kind, gave rise to a very varied and
gradually intensifying play of feeling between them. Feeling only
possible, no doubt, for the _raffines_ of this world; but for them full
of strange charm, and even of excitement.

* * * * *

Delafield left the little inn for Montreux, Lausanne, and London that
afternoon. He bent to kiss his wife at the moment of his departure, in
the bare sitting-room that had been improvised for them on the ground
floor of the hotel, and as she let her face linger ever so little
against his she felt strong arms flung round her, and was crushed
against his breast in a hungry embrace. When he released her with a
flush and a murmured word of apology she shook her head, smiling sadly
but saying nothing. The door closed on him, and at the sound she made a
hasty step forward.

"Jacob! Take me with you!"

But her voice died in the rattle and bustle of the diligence outside,
and she was left trembling from head to foot, under a conflict of
emotions that seemed now to exalt, now to degrade her.

Half an hour after Delafield's departure there appeared on the terrace
of the hotel a tottering, emaciated form--Aileen Moffatt, in a black
dress and hat, clinging to her mother's arm. But she refused the
deck--chair, which they had spread with cushions and