never put themselves wholly in a man's power.
Moreover, wifely adoration was particularly bad for clergymen, who were
far too much inclined already to give themselves airs.

"I say! Herbert never gives himself airs!"

"They both did--to me. They have quite different ways from us, and they
make one feel it. They have family prayers--we don't. They have ascetic
ideas about bringing up children--I haven't. Elsie would think it
self-indulgent and abominable to stay in bed to breakfast--I don't. The
fact is, all her interests and ideals are quite different from mine, and
I am rather tired of being made to feel inferior."

"Daphne! what rubbish! I'm certain Elsie French never had such an idea
in her head. She's awfully soft and nice; I never saw a bit of conceit
in her."

"She's soft outside and steel inside. Well, never mind! we don't get on.
She's the old America, I'm the new," said Daphne, half frowning, half
laughing; "and I'm as good as she."

"You're a very good-looking woman, anyway," said Roger, admiring the
vision of her among the warm browns and shining whites of her wrap.
"Much better-looking than when I married you." He slipped an arm under
the cloak and gave her small waist a squeeze.

Daphne turned her eyes upon him. In their black depths his touch had
roused a passion which was by no means all tenderness. There was in it
something threatening, something intensely and inordinately possessive.
"That means that you didn't think me good-looking at all, as compared
with--Chloe?" she said insistently.

"Really, Daphne!"--Roger withdrew his arm with a rather angry
laugh--"the way you twist what one says! I declare I won't make you any
more pretty speeches for an age."

Daphne scarcely replied; but there dawned on her face the
smile--melting, provocative, intent--which is the natural weapon of such
a temperament. With a quick movement she nestled to her husband's side,
and Roger was soon appeased.

* * * * *

The visit which followed always counted in Roger Barnes's memory as the
first act of the tragedy, the first onset of the evil that engulfed him.

They found the old Duchess, Mrs. Fairmile, and Dr. Lelius, alone. The
Duchess had been the penniless daughter of an Irish clergyman, married
_en secondes noces_ for her somewhat queer and stimulating personality,
by an epicurean duke, who, after having provided the family with a
sufficient store of dull children by an aristocra