r
husband would be likely to play her false this time.

"Shall you be here on the twelfth?" she asked him casually.

"Why? What's up on the twelfth?"

"I'm going to have one of those things you hate--before the Arkell House
ball. I chose that night so that everyone should run away early! You
won't be obliged to look at a horse in the country that particular day?"

She spoke laughingly, as if she wanted him to say no, but would not be
very angry if he didn't. Lord Holme tugged his moustache and looked very
serious indeed.

"Another!" he ejaculated. "We're always havin' 'em. Any music?"

"No, no, nothing. There are endless dinners that night, and Mrs.
Crutchby's concert with Calve, and the ball. People will only run in and
say something silly and run out again."

"Who's comin'?"

"Everybody. All the tiresome dears that have had their cards left."

Lord Holme stared at his varnished boots and looked rather like a
puzzled boy at a _viva voce_ examination.

"The worst of it is, I can't be in the country lookin' at a horse that
night," he said with depression.

"Why not?"

She hastily added:

"But why should you? You ought to be here."

"I'd rather be lookin' at a horse. But I'm booked for the dinner to
Rowley at the Nation Club that night. I might say the speeches were too
long and I couldn't get away. Eh?"

He looked at her for support.

"You really ought to be here, Fritz," she answered.

It ended there. Lady Holme knew her husband pretty well. She fancied
that the speeches at the dinner given to Sir Jacob Rowley, ex-Governor
of some place she knew nothing about, would turn out to be very lengthy
indeed--speeches to keep a man far from his home till after midnight.

On the evening of the twelfth Lord Holme had not arrived when the first
of his wife's guests came slowly up the stairs, and Lady Holme began
gently to make his excuses to all the tiresome dears who had had their
cards left at forty-two Cadogan Square. There were a great many
tiresome dears. The stream flowed steadily, and towards half-past eleven
resembled a flood-tide.

Lady Cardington, Lady Manby, Mr. Bry, Sally Perceval had one by one
appeared, and Robin Pierce's dark head was visible mounting slowly amid
a throng of other heads of all shapes, sizes and tints.

Lady Holme was looking particularly well. She was dressed in black.
Of course black suits everybody. It suited her even better than most
people, and her gown was a triumph. S