nd
that she was attending.

"And they won't publish a word he writes."

"Poor man!"

"Nice for me; is it not?"

"I begin to understand," said Lady Cicely quietly; and soon after
retired with her invariable composure.

Meantime, Dr. Staines, like a good husband, had thrown out occasional
hints to Mrs. Lucas that he had a wife, beautiful, accomplished, moped.
More than that, he went so far as to regret to her that Mrs. Staines,
being in a neighborhood new to him, saw so little society; the more so,
as she was formed to shine, and had not been used to seclusion.

All these hints fell dead on Mrs. Lucas. A handsome and skilful doctor
was welcome to her: his wife--that was quite another matter.

But one day Mrs. Lucas saw Lady Cicely Treherne's carriage standing at
the door. The style of the whole turnout impressed her. She wondered
whose it was.

On another occasion she saw it drive up, and the lady get out. She
recognized her; and the very next day this parvenue said adroitly, "Now,
Dr. Staines, really you can't be allowed to hide your wife in this way.
(Staines stared.) Why not introduce her to me next Wednesday? It is my
night. I would give a dinner expressly for her; but I don't like to do
that while my husband is in Naples."

When Staines carried the invitation to his wife, she was delighted, and
kissed him with childish frankness.

But the very next moment she became thoughtful, uneasy, depressed. "Oh,
dear; I've nothing to wear."

"Oh, nonsense, Rosa. Your wedding outfit."

"The idea! I can't go as a bride. It's not a masquerade."

"But you have other dresses."

"All gone by, more or less; or not fit for such parties as SHE gives. A
hundred carriages!"

"Bring them down, and let me see them."

"Oh yes." And the lady, who had nothing to wear, paraded a very fair
show of dresses.

Staines saw something to admire in all of them. Mrs. Staines found more
to object to in each.

At last he fell upon a silver-gray silk, of superlative quality.

"That! It is as old as the hills," shrieked Rosa.

"It looks just out of the shop. Come, tell the truth; how often have you
worn it?"

"I wore it before I was married."

"Ay, but how often?"

"Twice. Three times, I believe."

"I thought so. It is good as new."

"But I have had it so long by me. I had it two years before I made it
up."

"What does that matter? Do you think the people can tell how long a
dress has been lurking in your wardrobe? This