pulse of life. But she felt also as if she were still at a
window, looking down a road, and listening to the sound of an approach.

"Did you see him?"

A lady near her was speaking to a friend.

"Yes. Doesn't he look shocking? Such an alteration!"

"Poor fellow! I wonder he cares to go about."

"And he's so clever. He helped me in a concert once--the Gordon boys,
you know--and I assure you--"

She did not catch anything more, but she felt a conviction that they
were speaking of Rupert Carey, and that he must be in the concert-room.
Poor Carey! She thought of the Arkell House ball, but only for a moment.
Then someone spoke to her. A moment later Miss Schley came slowly
into the room, accompanied by a very small, wiry-looking old woman,
dreadfully dressed, and by Leo Ulford, who was carrying a bouquet of red
carnations. The kind care of Mr. Ongrin had provided a bouquet for each
lady who was performing.

As Leo came in he looked round swiftly, furtively. He saw Fritz, and
a flush went over his face. Then Lady Holme saw him look at her with a
scowl, exactly like the scowl of an evil-tempered schoolboy. She bowed
to him slightly. He ignored the recognition, and spoke to Miss Schley
with a heavy assumption of ignominious devotion and intimacy. Lady Holme
could scarcely help smiling. She read the little story very plainly--the
little common story of Leo's desire to take a revenge for his thrashing
fitting in with some similar desire of Miss Schley's; on her part
probably a wish to punish Fritz for having ventured to say something
about her impudent mimicry of his wife. Easy to read it was,
common-minded, common-hearted humanity in full sail to petty triumph,
petty revenge. But all this was taking place in the room behind Lady
Holme, and she was leaning from the window watching the white road. But
Fritz? She glanced round the drawing-room and saw that he was moved by
the story as they had meant him to be moved. The angry jealousy of the
primitive, sensual man was aflame, His possessive sense, one of the
strongest, if not the strongest, of such a man's senses, was outraged.
And he showed it.

He was standing with a middle-aged lady, one of the committee, but he
had ceased from talking to her, and was staring at Miss Schley and Leo
with the peculiar inflated look on his face that was characteristic of
him when his passions were fully roused. Every feature seemed to swell
and become bloated, as if under the influence of