rt of Dead Sea-fruitish, sour-grapes,
autumn-leaves, sort of feeling! It's too remote from real life and yet
it hasn't an uplifting effect. At any rate it always depresses me."

He gave her a rather searching look, and then said:

"Did Hillier like it?"

"I think he enjoys everything. He's always so cheery."

"And to-night we're dining at home?"

"Oh yes, I hope so. We'll have a quiet evening."

After a moment Percy said, in a slightly constrained way:

"I think I shall have to go out for half-an-hour. I want to see a man at
the club."

"Oh, must you? But it's raining so much. Why don't you ring him up and
ask him to come here?"

She was anxious not to betray a womanish fear that he might be getting
influenza, as she knew that nothing would annoy him so much as bothering
about him.

"No; I must go out."

She dropped the subject. He took up a new book she had been reading and
talked about it somewhat pompously and at great length. The whole time
it struck her he was not like himself. Something was wrong. He was
either worried, or going to be ill. He had either a temper or a
temperature. But she did not refer to it. Dinner was sometimes a good
cure for such indispositions.

He continued to make conversation in a slightly formal way until he went
out. After he had gone she observed to herself that his manner had
varied from polite absent-mindedness to slight irritability. He had gone
out without telling her anything about his plans. He had not even kissed
her.

CHAPTER IX

AN ANONYMOUS LETTER

Mrs. Hillier habitually had breakfast in her own room, for no particular
reason, but because Nigel encouraged her in this luxurious manner of
beginning the day. He said a woman ought not to have to come down until
the day had been a little warmed, and got ready for her; that she should
have time to choose her clothes to harmonise with her moods--time, after
a look at the weather, and hearing the news of the day, to settle on
what the moods should be. For a man, on the contrary, he thought it
ridiculous and weakly idle--indolent in a way not suited to a man. A
man, according to Nigel, ought no more to have his breakfast in bed than
to come down with a bow of blue ribbon in his hair, or to go and lie
down before dressing for a dinner-party.

However, one morning it darted suddenly into Mary's head that Nigel, on
going downstairs to breakfast, while she did not, had nearly an hour to
himself. What a horribl