to the marrying mark."

"Who wasn't?"

"The other--horrid creature."

He could not repress a chuckle.

"You're deuced conceited," he said.

"You've made me so."

"I--how?"

"By marrying me first and adoring me afterwards."

They had finished tea and were no longer preoccupied with cups and
saucers. It was very bright in the room, very silent. Lord Holme looked
at his wife and remembered how much she was admired by other men, how
many men would give--whatever men are ready to give--to see her as she
was just then. It occurred to him that he would have been rather a fool
if he had yielded to his violent impulse and shut her out of the house
the previous night.

"You're never to speak to that cad again," he said. "D'you hear?"

"Whisper it close in my ear and I'll try to hear. Your voice is
so--what's your expression--so infernally soft."

He put his great arm round her.

"D'you hear?"

"I'm trying."

"I'll make you."

Whether Lord Holme succeeded or not, Lady Holme had no opportunity--even
if she desired it--of speaking to Rupert Carey for some time. He left
London and went up to the North to stay with his mother. The only person
he saw before he went was Robin Pierce. He came round to Half Moon
Street early on the afternoon of the day after the Arkell House Ball.
Robin was at home and Carey walked in with his usual decision. He was
very pale, and his face looked very hard. Robin received him coldly
and did not ask him to sit down. That was not necessary, of course. But
Robin was standing by the door and did not move back into the room.

"I'm going North to-night," said Carey.

"Are you?"

"Yes. If you don't mind I'll sit down."

Robin said nothing. Carey threw himself into an armchair.

"Going to see the mater. A funny thing--but she's always glad to see
me."

"Why not?"

"Mothers have a knack that way. Lucky for sons like me."

There was intense bitterness in his voice, but there was a sound of
tenderness too. Robin shut the door but did not sit down.

"Are you going to be in the country long?"

"Don't know. What time did you leave Arkell House last night?"

"Not till after Lady Holme left."

"Oh!"

He was silent for a moment, biting his red moustache.

"Were you in the hall after the last lancers?"

"No."

"You weren't?"

He spoke quickly, with a sort of relief, hesitated then added
sardonically:

"But of course you know--and much worse than the worst. The art of
conversa