seen her. But stay, there's Matilda wanting to speak to you, I believe."

Tilly was making all manner of signs to attract his attention.

"Good evening, doctor. Yes, I've a message. You'll find 'er in the
cloakroom. She's been in there for the last half-'our or so. I think
she's got the headache or something of that sort, and is waiting for
you to take 'er home."

"Oh, thank goodness, there you are, Richard!" cried Mary as he opened
the door of the cloakroom; and she rose from the bench on which she had
been sitting with her shawl wrapped round her. "I thought you'd never
come." She was pale, and looked distressed.

"Why, what's wrong, my dear? ... feeling faint?" asked Mahony
incredulously. "If so, you had better wait for the buggy. It won't be
long now; you ordered it for two o'clock."

"No, no, I'm not ill, I'd rather walk," said Mary breathlessly. "Only
please let us get away. And without making a fuss."

"But what's the matter?"

"I'll tell you as we go. No, these boots won't hurt. And I can walk in
them quite well. Fetch your own things, Richard." Her one wish was to
get her husband out of the building.

They stepped into the street; it was a hot night and very dark. In her
thin satin dancing-boots, Mary leaned heavily on Richard's arm, as they
turned off the street-pavements into the unpaved roads.

Mahony let the lights of the main street go past; then said: "And now,
Madam Wife, you'll perhaps be good enough to enlighten me as to what
all this means?"

"Yes, dear, I will," answered Mary obediently. But her voice trembled;
and Mahony was sharp of hearing.

"Why, Polly sweetheart ... surely nothing serious?"

"Yes, it is. I've had a very unpleasant experience this evening,
Richard--very unpleasant indeed. I hardly know how to tell you. I feel
so upset."

"Come--out with it!"

In a low voice, with downcast eyes, Mary told her story. All had gone
well till about twelve o'clock: she had danced with this partner and
that, and thoroughly enjoyed herself. Then came Purdy's turn. She was
with Mrs. Long when he claimed her, and she at once suggested that they
should sit out the dance on one of the settees placed round the hall,
where they could amuse themselves by watching the dancers. But Purdy
took no notice--"He was strange in his manner from the very
beginning"--and led her into one of the little rooms that opened off
the main body of the hall.

"And I didn't like to object. We were conspicuous e