unknown, were spread before her eyes to lure her
to destruction. But of Haddo himself she learned nothing. She did not
know if he loved her. She did not know if he had ever loved. He appeared
to stand apart from human kind. Margaret discovered by chance that his
mother lived, but he would not speak of her.

'Some day you shall see her,' he said.

'When?'

'Very soon.'

Meanwhile her life proceeded with all outward regularity. She found it
easy to deceive her friends, because it occurred to neither that her
frequent absence was not due to the plausible reasons she gave. The lies
which at first seemed intolerable now tripped glibly off her tongue. But
though they were so natural, she was seized often with a panic of fear
lest they should be discovered; and sometimes, suffering agonies of
remorse, she would lie in bed at night and think with utter shame of the
way she was using Arthur. But things had gone too far now, and she must
let them take their course. She scarcely knew why her feelings towards
him had so completely changed. Oliver Haddo had scarcely mentioned his
name and yet had poisoned her mind. The comparison between the two was to
Arthur's disadvantage. She thought him a little dull now, and his
commonplace way of looking at life contrasted with Haddo's fascinating
boldness. She reproached Arthur in her heart because he had never
understood what was in her. He narrowed her mind. And gradually she began
to hate him because her debt of gratitude was so great. It seemed unfair
that he should have done so much for her. He forced her to marry him by
his beneficence. Yet Margaret continued to discuss with him the
arrangement of their house in Harley Street. It had been her wish to
furnish the drawing-room in the style of Louis XV; and together they made
long excursions to buy chairs or old pieces of silk with which to cover
them. Everything should be perfect in its kind. The date of their
marriage was fixed, and all the details were settled. Arthur was
ridiculously happy. Margaret made no sign. She did not think of the
future, and she spoke of it only to ward off suspicion. She was inwardly
convinced now that the marriage would never take place, but what was to
prevent it she did not know. She watched Susie and Arthur cunningly. But
though she watched in order to conceal her own secret, it was another's
that she discovered. Suddenly Margaret became aware that Susie was deeply
in love with Arthur Burdon. The disc