oudly:

"He is not going to the club; he'd give it up if he were. It's something
about that woman. ..."

A wave of hysteria came over her, also a half-hearted hope of succeeding
still by a new kind of scene. ...

There were two large china pots on the mantelpiece; she threw them,
first one, then the other, at the half-open door, smashing them to
atoms. Excited at her own violence, she ran upstairs screaming,
regardless of appearance:

"You sha'n't go! You sha'n't go! I hate you. I'll kill myself.
Oh--oh--oh! Nigel! Nigel!"

* * * * *

At eight to the minute Nigel in the Palm Court received Bertha Kellynch
dressed in black, Madeline in white, and Rupert Denison with a little
mauve orchid in his buttonhole.

The dinner, subtly ordered, was a complete success, and Madeline Irwin
was in a dream of happiness, but Bertha was sorry to see that Nigel, who
was usually remarkably moderate in the matter of champagne, and to-night
drank even less than usual, had the whole evening a trembling hand. Even
at the ballet, where he was more than usually ready to enjoy every shade
of the enjoyable, he was not quite free from nervous agitation. He did
not drive Rupert home, but let Rupert drop him in Grosvenor Street at
twelve-thirty--for a slight supper was inevitable and Rupert had taken
them to the Savoy.

* * * * *

Mrs. Hillier was in bed and asleep. The maid said she had been ill and
excited. The maid, frightened, had sent for the doctor. His remedy had
succeeded in calming her.

The next day Mary seemed subdued, and was amiable. Both ignored the
quarrel. Nigel believed it would not occur again. He thought his
firmness had won and that she was defeated. He did not understand her.

CHAPTER VIII

PERCY

"I've had such a lovely letter from Rupert, Bertha. I'm so excited, I
can't read it almost!"

Bertha held out her hand. Madeline was looking agitated.

"He says," said Madeline, looking closely at the letter in her
short-sighted way, "that he wishes he could burn me like spice on the
altar of a life-long friendship! Fancy!"

"Rather indefinite, isn't it?"

"Oh, but listen!" And Madeline read aloud eagerly: "_Yesterday evening
was perfect: but to-day and for several days I shall be unable to see
you. Why is a feast day always followed by a fast?_"

"Is it Doncaster to-morrow?" asked Bertha.

"Don't be absurd, that's nothing to do with it. List