sed myself I should never speak to
you again."

Ah, she had said something very like that not long before.

He sighed heavily. Then he drew a chair up to the fire and lowered
himself carefully into it. He was shivering.

"All right," he muttered between chattering teeth. "Get me some brandy,
will you? You can do that without speaking."

"Nevill--what's the matter?"

"Nothing. I've got an infernally bad chill coming here, that's all."

She flew for the brandy.

Yes; there was no mistake about it. It was an infernally bad chill, and
it saved him.

Whether Mrs. Wilcox was right or wrong in her conjecture, the Tyson baby
had shown infinite delicacy in retiring from a world where he had caused
so many complications. He had done mischief enough in his short life, and
I believe to the last Tyson owed the little beggar a grudge. He had
spoiled the complexion of the loveliest woman in Leicestershire. At any
rate Tyson thought he had. Other people perhaps knew better.

If she had been thin and pale before the baby's death, she was thinner
and paler now. She had the look of a woman who carries a secret about
with her. She trembled and blushed when you spoke to her. And when she
had ceased to blush she took to dabbing on paint and powder. It was just
like her folly to let everybody see she was pining. And the more she
pined the more she painted. Ah, she might well hide her face!

Scandal may circulate for years before it comes to the ears of the
persons most concerned in it; still, one could not help wondering how
much Tyson knew. He was going to take her away, which was certainly very
wise of him. Poor man, she had made Leicestershire rather too hot to hold
him.

He was always going up to London now, and people who had met him there
hinted that the country gentleman had become a man about town. Still, you
must not believe the half of what you hear; and supposing there was some
truth in the report, why, what could you expect with a wife like that?

By March it was settled that they were to leave Thorneytoft and make
London their headquarters. Tyson had taken a flat in Ridgmount Gardens.
This, he said, was a good central position and handy for the theatres.
At any rate, he could not afford a better one so long as that infernal
estate swallowed up two-thirds of his income.

It looked as if they meant to make a clean sweep of their past. They
began by making a clean sweep of the servants, from the kitchen-maid
upwards.