here to poison it. What did you think of your
home--before you met her? Everything was perfect! What did you say of
it after?"

"Dowdy--old-fashioned--run to seed. Look at the transformation! Isn't
my drawing-room a poem? Has not 'Liberty' descended like the goddess
of Beauty on our abode, and made it the envy of our neighbours? Giddy
has practically built me up, Philip. I owe her my dress-maker, my
tailor, my style, my hats, my----"

"Oh! spare me," he interrupts, "I have heard it so often."

"Dear old fellow, _don't_ be angry," coaxes Eleanor, with her old
cajoling manner. "It is very hard for a poor little woman to be left
alone all day, while her better half is frivoling in the City with
stocks and shares, and all sorts of nice amusing things. There really
is no harm in Giddy, and she is so awfully clever and entertaining."

"But I do not approve of the people you meet at her house, nor your
frequent visits to town together. I don't wish my wife to be
constantly seen with a woman of doubtful reputation."

"Nonsense about her reputation, it's all bosh! People are jealous of
her beauty that say nasty things. She told me so herself. Besides, we
only do a little shopping, and it is so dull going all by oneself."

Eleanor has crept into his arms, and is soothing his ruffled feeling
with caresses.

"It is only because I love you, Eleanor," he says, with more
passionately, hungering devotion than of yore. "Her companionship is
not good for you, and she is always taking you away from me. That
sounds selfish, doesn't it?"

"Well, I forgive you," she whispers, "if you will be less ferocious in
the future. I declare, when you walk up and down--like this,"
imitating his stride, "and show the whites of your eyes--_so_! I want
to hide under the sofa, and scream."

"Oh! Eleanor, was I such a bear?"

"Much worse than a bear; he is in a cage, and cannot get out. You just
stand and laugh at him, and please him with a biscuit, or tease him
with a feather."

"I didn't want to quarrel before going, only you started the subject of
Mrs. Mounteagle, and it is rather a red rag, you know, Eleanor, since I
objected from the first."

"But I am so wickedly wilful," she sighs, peeping through her eyelashes
coquettishly. She has caught the "eye-lash" trick from her next-door
neighbour.

"I am sorry, dear, to have to stay in town to-night, but it is most
important. You won't give up your party at Hillier's?"