the whole story out--the lodgings in
Birmingham, the intrigue, the ultimatum, Charles's catastrophic
collapse and inertia, years of poverty in London going from studio to
studio, lodging to lodging: his flight--with another woman: her
struggles, her present hand to mouth existence on the outskirts of the
musical comedy theatre.

'I wouldn't have spoken,' said Kitty, 'if you hadn't been so young.'

'I should have thought that was a reason for keeping quiet,' replied
Clara, who was now almost frozen with horror.

'You were bound to hear sooner or later.'

Charles came in followed by Mr Clott. He was in the highest spirits
and called out,--

'Darling, Lord Verschoyle is interested.'

His jaw dropped as he saw Kitty there at tea. His pince-nez fell off
his nose, and he stood pulling at his necktie for a few seconds. Then
he gave Mr Clott a commission to perform, and stood looking with
horror, disgust, and loathing at the unhappy Kitty.... It was Clara
who first found her voice,--

'I ... I brought her here, Charles,' she said. 'I thought it would
save us all--trouble.'

In a tone icy with fury he said,--

'If you will go quietly, I will write to you. Please leave your
address, and I will write to you.'

Kitty hoped for a moment that he was talking to Clara, but his fury was
so obviously concentrated on her that at last she rose and said
meekly,--

'Yes, Charles.'

'You will find a writing-block by the telephone in the hall. Please
leave your address there.'

'Yes, Charles.'

With that she left the room. Charles and Clara were too much for her.
All her venom trickled away in a thin stream of dread as she felt the
gathering rage in the two of them. At the same time she had some
exultation in having produced a storm so much beyond her own capacity.

'You did not tell me,' said Clara, when Kitty had gone.

'Honestly, honestly I had forgotten.'

'Forgotten! You did not tell me. You did not need her to come into
this house to remember.'

'No.'

'What do you mean, then? You had forgotten?'

'Honestly, I never thought of it until one day when I met her in the
street.'

'Does everybody know?'

'Yes. I don't conceal these things.'

'You concealed it from me, from me, from me....'

'Yes. I never thought of it. She'd gone out of my life years ago.'

'Have many women gone out of your life?'

He blushed.

'A good many.... I never meant to conceal it. Truly I didn't. I just
didn't m