ce--in which the baronet's
wife declared herself anxious to hear of her friends. She found they
had left Herne Hill; if this letter reached him, would not Edmund come
and see her at her house in Wimpole Street?

Misery of solitude, desire for a woman's sympathy and counsel, impelled
him to use this opportunity, little as it seemed to promise. He went to
Wimpole Street and had a very long private talk with Lady Horrocks,
who, in some way he could not understand, had changed from her old
self. She began frivolously, but in rather a dull, make-believe way;
and when she heard that Widdowson had parted from his wife, when a few
vague, miserable words had suggested the domestic drama so familiar to
her observation, she at once grew quiet, sober, sympathetic, as if
really glad to have something serious to talk about.

'Now look here, Edmund. Tell the whole story from the first. You're the
sort of man to make awful blunders in such a case as this. Just tell me
all about it. I'm not a bad sort, you know, and I have troubles of my
own--I don't mind telling you so much. Women make fools of
themselves--well, never mind. Just tell me about the little girl, and
see if we can't square things somehow.'

He had a struggle with himself, but at length narrated everything,
often interrupted by shrewd questions.

'No one writes to you?' the listener finally inquired.

'I am expecting to hear from them,' was Widdowson's answer, as he sat
in the usual position, head hanging forward and hands clasped between
his knees.

'To hear what?'

'I think I shall be sent for.'

'Sent for? To make it up?'

'She is going to give birth to a child.'

Lady Horrocks nodded twice thoughtfully, and with a faint smile.

'How did you find this out?'

'I have known it long enough. Her sister Virginia told me before they
went away. I had a suspicion all at once, and I forced her to tell me.'

'And if you are sent for shall you go?'

Widdowson seemed to mutter an affirmative, and added,--

'I shall hear what she has to tell me, as she promised.'

'Is it--is it possible--?'

The lady's question remained incomplete. Widdowson, though he
understood it, vouchsafed no direct answer. Intense suffering was
manifest in his face, and at length he spoke vehemently.

'Whatever she tells me--how can I believe it? When once a woman has
lied how can she ever again be believed? I can't be sure of anything.'

'All that fibbing,' remarked Lady Horrocks, 'has