the
visitor's skirt.

'Mrs. Widdowson hasn't been to see us for more than a month--if I
remember rightly.'

His look expressed both surprise and doubt.

'A month? But I thought--I had an idea--that she went only a few days
ago.'

'In the day time?'

'To Great Portland Street, I mean--to hear a lecture, or something of
that kind, by Miss Barfoot.'

Rhoda kept silence for a moment. Then she replied hastily--

'Oh yes--very likely--I wasn't there that afternoon.'

'I see. That would explain--'

He seemed relieved, but only for the instant; then his eyes glanced
hither and thither, with painful restlessness. Rhoda observed him
closely. After fidgeting with his feet, he suddenly took a stiff
position, and said in a louder voice--

'We are going to leave London altogether. I have decided to take a
house at my wife's native place, Clevedon. Her sisters will come and
live with us.'

'That is a recent decision, Mr. Widdowson?'

'I have thought about it for some time. London doesn't suit Monica's
health; I'm sure it doesn't. She will be much better in the country.'

'Yes, I think that very likely.'

'As you say that you have noticed her changed looks, I shall lose no
time in getting away.' He made a great show of determined energy. 'A
few weeks--. We will go down to Clevedon at once and find a house. Yes,
we will go to-morrow, or the day after. Miss Madden, also, is very far
from well. I wish I hadn't delayed so long.'

'You are doing very wisely, I think. I had meant to suggest something
of this kind to Mrs. Widdowson. Perhaps, if I went at once to Mrs.
Cosgrove's, I might be fortunate enough to find her still there?'

'You might. Did I understand you to say that you go away tomorrow? For
three weeks. Ah, then we may be getting ready to remove when you come
back.'

The change that had come over him was remarkable. He could not keep his
seat, and began to pace the end of the room. Seeing no possibility of
prolonging the talk for her own purposes, Rhoda accepted this
dismissal, and with the briefest leave-taking went her way to Mrs.
Cosgrove's.

She was deeply agitated. Monica had not attended that lecture of Miss
Barfoot's, and so, it was evident, had purposely deceived her husband.
To what end? Where were those hours spent? Mildred Vesper's report
supplied grounds for sombre conjecture, and the incident at Sloane
Square Station, the recollection of Monica and Barfoot absorbed in
talk, seemed to have a p