part them, but Milly might come to
hate her.

Milly's plan was carried out: they all went up to town together, Milly
to her friend's house, Dick to his bachelor's chambers. And it was
Christina who asked Dick to come and dine with them the night before he
left for Africa. She maintained every appearance. The very air that
night was electric with the restraints ready to burst into
reverberations which would surprise no one but Dick. Christina herself
was aware of a strange little dart of impatience with him. His stupidity
helped her as nothing else could have helped; yet, while she blessed it,
she could feel for Milly, and actually, while she blessed, resent it.
It was true that she read in his eyes a slight shyness as they rested
upon his wife. He was bewildered, and it was evident he was not happy.
And Milly had dropped her shield of flippancy. She sat silent, absent,
absorbed, looking up at her husband now and then, with curious eyes,
eyes cold and deep and suffering. Christina saw it all. Should she leave
them now, it was inevitable that the revelation would come, and it would
come from Milly. Mutely, in their respective unconsciousness and
consciousness, they were begging her to go; and she sat on. Her
inflexible determination upheld her over the terrible falsity of her
position. Milly, now, must know that she knew; yet she sat on, smiling,
talking, until the hour was late.

Then, as Dick rose, it was Milly who went towards the barrier that she
herself had raised and showed Dick that it had an unlocked gate. From
her deep knowledge of Milly's nature, Christina could gauge, with a
dreadful accuracy, what the strength of the feeling must be that could
nerve her, rising and sauntering to the door beside him, to say in a
strange, in a nonchalant voice: "How about a walk in the park to-morrow,
Dick? You don't go till the evening, do you?"

Dick stared for a moment. He was pitiably, mercifully stupid. His stare
might really have been interpreted as one of mere astonishment. Then:

"Really?" he asked. "Aren't you and Mrs. Drent too busy?"

"No, indeed. Our arrangements are all made."

"Shall I come for you here?"

"Do. At eleven."

They shook hands, and Dick took Christina's hand. She felt, always, that
Dick looked upon her as a friend. His eyes, now, revealed to her his
boyish wonder and gladness. She and Milly were left alone. Milly, still
with the sauntering step, went to the mantelpiece and touched her hair,