I want to introduce you to some one to-night."

"Yes? Who is it?"

He asked, but he already knew.

"Mrs. Chepstow."

The Doctor was on the verge of saying that he was already acquainted
with her, when Armine added:

"I spoke about you to her, and she told me she had never met you."

"When was that?"

"Four days ago, when I was introduced to her, and talked to her for the
first time."

The Doctor did not speak for a minute. Then he said:

"I shall be delighted to be presented to her."

Although he was remarkably truthful with his friends, he was always
absolutely discreet in his professional capacity. He did not know
whether Mrs. Chepstow would wish the fact of her having consulted him
about her health to be spoken of. Therefore he did not mention it. And
as Armine knew that four days ago Mrs. Chepstow and he were strangers,
in not mentioning it he was obliged to leave his friend under the
impression that they were strangers still.

"She is staying in this hotel, and is sitting over there. But of course
you know her by sight," said Armine.

"Oh, yes, I have seen her about."

"I think you will like her, if you can clear your mind of any prejudices
you may have formed against her."

"Why should I be prejudiced against Mrs. Chepstow?"

"People are. No one has a good word for her. Both women and men speak
ill of her."

From the tone of Armine's voice Meyer Isaacson knew that this fact had
prejudiced him in Mrs. Chepstow's favour. There are some men who are
born to defend lost causes, who instinctively turn towards those from
whom others are ostentatiously turning away, moved by some secret
chivalry which blinds their reason, or by a passion of simple human pity
that dominates their hearts and casts a shadow over the brightness of
their intellects. Of these men Nigel Armine was one, and Meyer Isaacson
knew it. He was not much surprised, therefore, when Armine continued:

"They see only the surface of things, and judge by what they see. I
suppose one ought not to condemn them. But sometimes it's--it's devilish
difficult not to condemn cruelty, especially when the cruelty is
directed against a woman. Only to-night Mrs. Derringham--and you say
she's a good sort of woman--"

"Very much so."

"Well, she said to me, 'For such women as Mrs. Chepstow I have no pity,
so don't ask it of me, Mr. Armine.' What a confession, Isaacson!"

"Did she give her reasons?"

"Oh, yes, she tried to. She said the usual thi