y."

"And glad to find that you were mistaken?"

"I am very glad."

He tried to meet her eyes, but she did not look at him again.

"It was my own fault," he said. "I was going to mention my connection
with your father's bookseller that morning; but--you know--my feelings
ran away with me. I told you things more to my discredit, did I not?"

"I remember nothing to your discredit. Certainly what you have told me
now is not to your discredit."

"If you had met my aunt in London, of course you would have known. But
she does not visit or entertain anyone. You knew she was in London?"

"Yes."

"But you never saw her?"

"Yes, once."

"Oh, I did not know that. When?"

"A long time ago. It was quite a casual and unimportant meeting. Oh, Mr.
Walcott, who is that terrible woman?"

They were out of the building by this time, standing on the pavement.
Graham had called a cab, and whilst they were waiting for it to draw up
Lettice had become aware of a strikingly-dressed woman, with painted
face and bold eyes, who was planting herself in front of them, and
staring at her with a mocking laugh.

Alan was horrified to see that it was his wife who stood before them,
with the mad demoniac look in her eyes which he knew too well.

"Alan, my dear Alan," she cried in a shrill voice, causing everyone to
look round at the group, "tell her this terrible woman's name! Tell her
that I am your wife, the wife that you have plunged into misery and
starvation----"

"For heaven's sake!" said Alan, turning to Graham, "where is your cab?
Take them away quickly!"

"Tell her," the virago screamed, "that I am the woman whom you tried to
murder, in order that you might be free----"

Here the harangue was cut short by a policeman, who knew the orator very
well by sight, and who deftly interposed his arm at the moment when Cora
was reaching the climax of her rage. At the same instant the cab drew
up, and Lettice was driven away with her friends, not, however, before
she had forced Alan to take her hand, and had wished him good-night.

"That must have been his wife," said Clara, whose face was white, and
who was trembling violently.

"Yes, confound her!" said her husband, much annoyed by what had
happened.

"Could you not stay to see what happens? You might be of some use to Mr.
Walcott."

"What good can I do? I wish we had not met him. I have a horror of these
scenes; some people, apparently, take them more coolly."

He was out o