oking?"

"Quite herself. I don't believe there was much the matter with her
really."

"No, they took it in time. Ah, she is a lovely thing and no mistake.
Aline's been showing me some of her undies; simply a dream they
are--_I_ never saw anything like them."

Reassured, Esther proceeded to her own room. Try as she would, she
could not dismiss from her mind that matter of Roger and Lady Clifford.
It stuck like a burr. Constantly before her mental vision was spread
the picture of those two, clasped in an embrace which looked at the
very least affectionate. She realised now that probably she had done
the wrong thing by bolting out of the room; it would have been wiser to
go in as if there were nothing unusual. Only she was so startled she
had not time to think. What was the meaning of this sudden
reconciliation? An idea came to her. Suppose Roger had all the time
been secretly fond of his stepmother--too fond? So often hatred was an
inverted form of love. Could it be true, that he subconsciously loved
her and despised himself for so doing?

What a hateful thought! There was something particularly humiliating
and unpleasant about it, yet now that it had come she could not get rid
of it. She seized a brush and attacked her hair angrily, brushing hard
to exercise her annoyance.

A knock sounded at the door, a man's voice called softly:

"Have you gone to bed yet?"

With her curls all wild, she dropped the brush and opened the door.
Outside was Roger, in his old tweed coat, raindrops standing out on its
hairy surface.

"I want to talk to you," he said simply.

CHAPTER XXII

"Oh! Is anything the matter?"

She noticed that he looked embarrassed.

"No, nothing. Come outside for a few minutes; downstairs is best,
where we won't disturb anybody. The whole house seems to have turned
in, and it's only ten-thirty."

They descended to the floor below and sat on the broad stairs in
semi-darkness. Esther waited, curious to know what he was going to
say. He lit a cigarette and seemed reluctant to begin.

"I've been driving in the rain for a couple of hours," he volunteered
at last. "I've got a beastly head for some reason or other. I thought
the air might do it good."

There was a long, awkward pause, then finally he turned and eyed her
with the same shamefaced expression she had noticed at dinner.

"Well," he said abruptly, "what do you think of me?"

She returned his gaze with transparent