the other people's money.

"I have never heard my husband speak of you," she said presently, when
she had silently borne a good deal of vitriolic gush. "You have perhaps
been out of England for some time?"

And Lady Anningford whispered to Ethelrida, "We need not worry to be
ready to defend her, pet! She can hold her own!" So they moved on to the
group of the girls.

But at the end of their conversation, though Zara had used her method of
silence in a considerable degree and made it as difficult as she could
for Lady Highford, still, that artist in petty spite had been able to
leave behind her some rankling stings. She was a mistress of innuendo.
So that when the men came in, and Tristram, from the sense of "not
funking things" which was in him, deliberately found Laura and sat down
upon a distant sofa with her, Zara suddenly felt some unpleasant feeling
about her heart. She found that she desired to watch them, and that, in
spite of what any one said to her, her attention wandered back to the
distant sofa in some unconscious speculation and unrest.

And Laura was being exceedingly clever. She scented with the cunning of
her species that Tristram was really unhappy, whether he was in love
with his hatefully beautiful wife or not. Now was her chance; not by
reproaches, but by sympathy, and, if possible, by planting some venom
towards his wife in his heart.

"Tristram, dear boy, why did you not tell me? Did you not know I would
have been delighted at anything--if it pleased you?" And she looked
down, and sighed. "I always made it my pleasure to understand you, and
to promote whatever seemed for your good."

And in his astonishment at this attitude Tristram forgot to recall the
constant scenes and reproaches, and the paltry little selfishnesses of
which he had been the victim during the year their--friendship--had
lasted. He felt somehow soothed. Here was some one who was devoted to
him, even if his wife were not!

"You are a dear, Laura," he said.

"And now you must tell me if you are really happy--Tristram." She
lingered over his name. "She is so lovely--your wife--but looks very
cold. And I know, dear" (another hesitation over the word), "I know you
don't like women to be cold."

"We will not discuss my wife," he said. "Tell me what you have been
doing, Laura. Let me see, when did I see you last--in June?"

And the venom came to boiling-point in Laura's adder gland. He could not
even remember when he had sai