* * * *

When I was dressing for dinner, Augustus returned. He shuffled into
the room without knocking, while McGreggor was brushing my hair.

He seemed to have forgotten the scene of the morning, and was in a
most amiable mood. He had brought me a new muff chain, in wonderfully
good taste; he could never have chosen it himself. It is so difficult
to thank people for things when you would like to throw them in the
fire rather than receive them.

However, I did my best.

McGreggor felt it her duty to leave the room. Would this be a good
opportunity to get over what I had promised my mother-in-law to say
to Augustus? Oh, it was an ugly moment.

I told him, as simply as I could, that his mother was worried about
him, fearing he had contracted a dangerous friendship with Lady
Grenellen, and that I hoped he would make her mind at ease upon the
subject.

He came over to me and seized my wrists. There was an air of conscious
pride in his face. He was not displeased that this gallantry could be
attributed to him.

"It's all your fault if I do look at any one else," he blustered;
"and, anyway, a man of the world must have a little amusement, with
such a dull, stuck-up wife at home as I have got. Cordelia is a darned
sight higher rank than you are, and yet she does not give herself your
mighty airs."

"Oh, do not think it matters to me," I said, as calmly as I could,
"only it worries your mother, who spoke to me about it."

"If I thought you cared it would be different," Augustus said,
delighted to grasp at this excuse.

"No, it would be just the same, only in that case it would grieve me,
and I should suffer, whereas now--" I left the sentence unfinished, I
do not know why.

"Now you don't care what I do or whether I am dead or alive--that is
what you mean, I see," he said, dropping my wrists and walking towards
the door.

"Augustus!" I called to him, and he came back. "Listen. You swore at
me this morning. You were very rude to me, and you spend the day in
London with another woman, and return bringing me a present. I have
done my best not to resent these insults, but I warn you I will not
stand any more."

He became cringing.

"Who's been telling the mater these stories about me?" he asked.
"There's not a word of truth in them. It is a queer thing if a man
may not speak to a woman without people making mischief about it!"

"That is between you and your mother. All I would like to know is