owerful as his own
and the check upon his habit of exuding patronage. His theatre had
always been animated with his own vitality, and he obviously resented a
position in which he had to employ that of another and openly to
acknowledge it.

'He wants to patronise Charles,' thought Clara, and then she decided
that for once in a way it would be a good thing for Charles to submit
to it. It must be either that or his chosen interminable procedure by
committee.

She decided to take a walk to think it over, and as she moved along
Piccadilly towards the Green Park, where she proposed to ponder her
problem, she had a distressing idea that she was followed. Several
times she turned and stopped, but she could see no one who could be
pursuing her. Men stared at her, but none dared molest so purposeful a
young woman.... She stayed for some time in the Green Park, turning
over and over in her mind how best she could engage Sir Henry's
interest without aggravating his hostility to Charles, and still she
was aware of eyes upon her.... She walked away very fast, but as she
turned out into the roadway in front of Buckingham Palace she turned,
stopped, and was accosted by a little dark woman with a smouldering
fury in her eyes.

'Are you Mrs Mann?' said the woman.

'Yes,' said Clara, at once on her guard.

'So am I,' rejoined the other woman.

'Oh, no!' said Clara, with a smile that barely concealed the catch at
her heart.

'Oh, yes,' replied the other woman. 'I should think I was married to
him before you were born. And I wasn't the only one. He left the
country----'

Clara turned on her heel and walked away. The other woman followed her
breathing heavily and gasping out details.

'You horrible woman,' cried Clara, unable at last to bear any more.
'Go away...' And in her heart she said--

'It is my fault. I made him marry me.'

Still the other woman was at her heels, babbling and gasping out her
sordid little tragedy---two children, no money, her mother to keep.

Clara was stunned and so nauseated that she could not speak. Only in
her mind the thought went round and round,--

'It is my fault.... It is my fault.'

But Charles ought to have told her. He ought not to have been so
will-less, so ready to fall in with every suggestion she made.

'I must have this out at once,' she said, and hailing a taxi she
bundled the other woman into it and drove home. Charles was out. She
ordered tea, and quickly had