mself driven down to the great malodorous factory by the
river, to put away a few hours. From thence he would return in a far
more cheerful spirit than was his on his unoccupied days.

On the morrow of the above conversation he came back from such a
dutiful visit, and going into the drawing-room in search of his wife,
he found, lying on the sofa drawn up to the fire, not Lucilla, but the
lady who of late had dwelt so dangerously in his thoughts--Vera Butt.

She had assumed a charming attitude, which she only changed to throw
out a welcoming hand as he came forward. "Here I am," she said. "It's
really me. Isn't Luce an angel?" She smiled at him, showing all her
teeth, stretching back her head on the pillow to bring her full, round
throat into prominence, shutting her eyes. "Oh, it is good to be here!"
she said.

It was good to see her there, he murmured, but not without a little
embarrassment. For, it is one thing for a man to make love to another
man's wife during a half-hour's call at her house, and another to do
the same when she has taken up a permanent position in his own wife's
drawing-room.

"I'm to stay here till Fred comes back," Vera told him, opening her
eyes upon him. (Fred was the husband.) "He won't be home for another
fortnight, at least. Are you prepared to tolerate me for a fortnight?"

He thought he was, he smiled; he sat down on the divan not far from her
sofa and gazed at her in a rather shamefaced way.

"In a company of three, one must be _de trop_. I only hope it won't be
me," she said.

She was such a nice little woman! With anyone else he might have
thought it "good cheek" to imagine it possible his wife or he could be
_de trop_ in their own house.

"What talks we'll have!" she went on. "Do you remember when Luce was
ill we laughed so loud at some ridiculous thing you said when we were
going up to her room that the horrid nurse came out and was rude, and
asked us to be quiet?"

Everard remembered the occasion with resentment. It was he who had made
the witty remark, certainly, but it had been Vera who had boisterously
laughed.

"I never laugh, at home," she told him. "And if Fred does, I am ready
to fly. I can't bear any sudden noise. Luce is going to have nurse take
the babies always down the back stairs, for fear I should hear them as
they come out and in. She has given orders they're not to come into
this part of the house at all while I'm here."

"Of course not," Everard said. Bu