o form a barrier behind which the actual man
concealed himself and watched.

That he did watch her was a fact of which she was miserably conscious.
She knew with the certain knowledge of intuition that he studied her
continually. She was perpetually under the microscope of his criticism,
and there were times when she told herself she could not bear it. He was
too much for her; too pitiless a tyrant, too stern a master. Her life
was becoming insupportable.

A fortnight of their honeymoon had passed away, when one morning
Wingarde looked up with a frown from a letter.

"I have had a summons to town," he said abruptly.

Nina's heart leapt at the words, and her relief showed itself for one
unmanageable second in her face.

He saw it, and she knew he saw it.

"I shall be sorry," he said, with cutting sarcasm, "to curtail your
enjoyment here, but the necessity for my presence is imperative. I
should like to catch the two-thirty this afternoon if you can be ready
by then."

Nina's face was burning. She held herself very erect.

"I can be ready before then if you wish," she said stiffly.

He rose from the breakfast-table with a curt laugh. As he passed her he
flicked her cheek with the envelope he held in his hand.

"You are a dutiful wife, my dear," he said.

She winced sharply, and bent her head over her own letters.

"I do my best," she said, after a moment.

"I am sure of it," he responded dryly.

He paused at the door as if he expected her to say more. More came,
somewhat breathlessly, and not upon the same subject.

Nina glanced up with sudden resolution.

"Hereford," she said, "can you let me have some money?"

She spoke with the rapidity of nervousness. She saw his hand leave the
door. His face remained quite unmoved.

"For yourself?" he asked.

Considering the amount of the settlement he had made upon her, the
question was absurd. Nina smiled faintly.

"No," she said, "not for myself."

He took a cheque-book from his pocket and walked to a writing-table.

"How much do you want?" he asked.

She hesitated, and he looked round at her.

"I--I only want to borrow it," she said haltingly. "It is rather a big
sum."

"How much?" he repeated.

"Five thousand pounds," she answered, in a low voice.

He continued to look at her for several seconds. Finally he turned and
shut up his cheque-book with a snap.

"The money will be placed to your credit to-morrow," he said. "But
though a financier, I