han that."

"Oh, very well, we'll leave it like that. I shall dine at the club."

"It's unkind of you. I believe you don't want to see me start."

"You're quite right. I hate the idea of your appearing there in your
lovely new dress. I suppose you want to wear it?"

"Oh, I don't care in the least," she answered, "if you'd rather not."

"Oh, hang it! Wear what you like," he answered rather crossly.

* * * * *

She did not see him again before she started, and, naturally, being a
woman, she put on the new dress.

It was pale yellow, and she knew Percy would have liked it and would
have called her a canary.

She went out, not in the best of tempers, and Madeline also, though
looking very charming, did not look forward to the entertainment, and
was thinking, with rather an aching heart, of Rupert in the lagoons of
Venice.

The Hilliers' house was arranged with the utmost gorgeousness. Nigel
felt a little return of his pride in it to-night. It was covered all
over with rambler roses, and looked magnificent. There was such a crowd
that Nigel hoped to get a little talk alone with Bertha, but feared she
would not come. He was agreeably surprised to see her arrive alone with
Madeline.

It so happened that Mary was not in the room when they were announced,
and very soon Nigel managed to take her down, first into the
refreshment-room, and then into the boudoir, which had been arranged
with draperies and shaded lights.

"I just want to have a few words with you," he said, and got her into a
little corner.

There was a heavy scent of roses; the music sounded faintly.

"Bertha!" he said. "It was too sweet of you to come. I shall never
forget it. You don't know how miserable I am."

"Oh, rubbish!" she answered. "You've no earthly reason to be. I wish you
wouldn't talk nonsense."

"I've never seen you look so lovely."

"I shall go away if you talk like that. Can't you see I don't like it?"

"I wonder Percy allowed you to come alone, looking like that."

"I came because I promised," she said. "You made me think, in some
mysterious way, it would be a good thing for you. But after what you
said about Mary, I want this to be distinctly understood: you are not to
come and see me any more. Nothing in the world I should loathe so much
as to be the cause of any trouble."

"Oh, my dear, but that you never could," he answered quickly.

"I hope not, and I'm not going to risk it. You chose y