" he answered cynically. "The punishment is, that
political virtue goes unrewarded, and in due course crime is the only
refuge to most. Yet in politics the temptation to be virtuous is great."

She laughed now with a sense of relief. The intellectual stimulant
had brought back the light to her face. "How is it, then, with
you--inveterate habit or the strain of the ages? For they say you have
not had your due reward."

He smiled grimly. "Ah, no, with me virtue is the act of an inquiring
mind--to discover where it will lead me. I began with political crime--I
was understood! I practise political virtue: it embarrasses the world,
it fogs them, it seems original, because so unnecessary. Mine is the
scientific life. Experiment in old substances gives new--well, say, new
precipitations. But you are scientific, too. You have a laboratory, and
have much to do--with retorts."

"No, you are thinking of my husband. The laboratory is his."

"But the retorts are yours."

"The precipitations are his."

"Ah, well, at least you help him to fuse the constituents!... But now,
be quite confidential to an old man who has experimented too. Is your
husband really an amateur scientist, or is he a scientific amateur? Is
it a pose or a taste? I fiddled once--and wrote sonnets; one was a pose,
the other a taste."

It was mere persiflage, but it was a jest which made an unintended
wound. Hylda became conscious of a sudden sharp inquiry going on in her
mind. There flashed into it the question, Does Eglington's heart ever
really throb for love of any object or any cause? Even in moments of
greatest intimacy, soon after marriage, when he was most demonstrative
towards her, he had seemed preoccupied, except when speaking about
himself and what he meant to do. Then he made her heart throb in
response to his confident, ardent words--concerning himself. But his own
heart, did it throb? Or was it only his brain that throbbed?

Suddenly, with an exclamation, she involuntarily laid a hand upon
Windlehurst's arm. She was looking down the room straight before her
to a group of people towards which other groups were now converging,
attracted by one who seemed to be a centre of interest.

Presently the eager onlookers drew aside, and Lord Windlehurst observed
moving up the room a figure he had never seen before. The new-comer was
dressed in a grey and blue official dress, unrelieved save by silver
braid at the collar and at the wrists. There was no d