obert," I said.

"Oh, I never said a word to either of them. You see, we only
came up to town the day before they had to go back to school.
I had the presence of mind to say that their father had been
called away on business."

It could not have been very easy to be bright and careless
with that sudden secret in her heart, nor to give her
attention to all the things that needed doing to get her
children comfortably packed off. Mrs. Strickland's voice
broke again.

"And what is to happen to them, poor darlings? How are we
going to live?"

She struggled for self-control, and I saw her hands clench and
unclench spasmodically. It was dreadfully painful.

"Of course I'll go over to Paris if you think I can do any good,
but you must tell me exactly what you want me to do."

"I want him to come back."

"I understood from Colonel MacAndrew that you'd made up your
mind to divorce him."

"I'll never divorce him," she answered with a sudden violence.
"Tell him that from me. He'll never be able to marry that woman.
I'm as obstinate as he is, and I'll never divorce him.
I have to think of my children."

I think she added this to explain her attitude to me, but I
thought it was due to a very natural jealousy rather than to
maternal solicitude.

"Are you in love with him still?"

"I don't know. I want him to come back. If he'll do that
we'll let bygones be bygones. After all, we've been married
for seventeen years. I'm a broadminded woman. I wouldn't
have minded what he did as long as I knew nothing about it.
He must know that his infatuation won't last. If he'll come
back now everything can be smoothed over, and no one will know
anything about it."

It chilled me a little that Mrs. Strickland should be
concerned with gossip, for I did not know then how great a
part is played in women's life by the opinion of others.
It throws a shadow of insincerity over their most deeply
felt emotions.

It was known where Strickland was staying. His partner, in a
violent letter, sent to his bank, had taunted him with hiding
his whereabouts: and Strickland, in a cynical and humourous
reply, had told his partner exactly where to find him. He was
apparently living in an Hotel.

"I've never heard of it," said Mrs. Strickland. "But Fred
knows it well. He says it's very expensive."

She flushed darkly. I imagined that she saw her husband
installed in a luxurious suite of rooms, dining at one smart
restaurant afte