t to Daphne, whom he slavishly obeyed, and to Miss Farmer,
with whom Roger had twice caught him gossipping). But he was determined
not to anger his wife, and he held his tongue.

"I wish, anyway, you wouldn't stick at it so closely," he said
discontentedly. "Let's go abroad somewhere for Christmas--Nice, or Monte
Carlo. I am sure you want a change."

"Well, it isn't exactly an enchanting neighbourhood," said Daphne, with
pinched lips.

"I'm awfully sorry you don't like the people here," said Roger,
perplexed. "I dare say they're all stupids."

"That wouldn't matter--if they behaved decently," said Daphne, flushing.

"I suppose that means--if I behaved decently!" cried Roger, turning upon
her.

Daphne faced him, her head in air, her small foot beating the ground, in
a trick it had.

"Well, I'm not likely to forget the Brendon ball, am I?"

Roger's look changed.

"I meant no harm, and you know I didn't," he said sulkily.

"Oh, no, you only made a laughing-stock of _me_!" Daphne turned on her
heel. Suddenly she felt herself roughly caught in Roger's arms.

"Daphne, what _is_ the matter? Why can't we be happy together?"

"Ask yourself," she said, trying to extricate herself, and not
succeeding. "I don't like the people here, and they don't like me. But
as you seem to enjoy flirting with Mrs. Fairmile, there's one person
satisfied."

Roger laughed--not agreeably. "I shall soon think, Daphne, that
somebody's 'put a spell on you,' as my old nurse used to say. I wish I
knew what I could do to break it."

She lay passive in his arms a moment, and then he felt a shiver run
through her, and saw that she was crying. He held her close to him,
kissing and comforting her, while his own eyes were wet. What her
emotion meant, or his own, he could not have told clearly; but it was a
moment for both of healing, of impulsive return, the one to the other,
unspoken penitence on her side, a hidden self-blame on his. She clung to
him fiercely, courting the pressure of his arms, the warm contact of his
youth; while, in his inner mind, he renounced with energy the temptress
Chloe and all her works, vowing to himself that he would give Daphne no
cause, no pretext even, for jealousy, and would bear it patiently if she
were still unjust and tormenting.

"Where have you been all day?" said Daphne at last, disengaging herself,
and brushing the tears away from her eyes--a little angrily, as though
she were ashamed of them.

"I tol