let Vere?" asked Clara.

"Yes, I saw her," he replied briefly. He seemed irritable and
vexed--moreover, decidedly impatient. Presently he said--

"Lady Winsleigh, would you mind very much if we left this place and went
home? I'm rather anxious about Neville--he's had a shock. Thelma doesn't
care a bit about this piece, I know, and if you are not very much
absorbed--"

Lady Winsleigh rose instantly, with her usual ready grace.

"My dear Sir Philip!" she said sweetly. "As if I would not, do anything
to oblige you! Let us go by all means! These burlesques _are_ extremely
fatiguing!"

He seemed relieved by her acquiescence--and smiled that rare sweet smile
of his, which had once played such havoc with her ladyship's sensitive
feelings. They left the theatre, and were soon on their way home, though
Thelma was rather silent during the drive. They dropped Lady Winsleigh
at her own door, and after they had bidden her a cordial good night, and
were going on again towards home, Philip, turning towards his wife, and
catching sight of her face by the light of a street-lamp, was struck by
her extreme paleness and weary look.

"You are very tired, my darling, I fear?" he inquired, tenderly
encircling her with one arm. "Lean your head on my shoulder--so!"

She obeyed, and her hand trembled a little as he took and held it in his
own warm, strong clasp.

"We shall soon be home!" he added cheerily. "And I think we must have no
more theatre-going this season. The heat and noise and glare are too
much for you."

"Philip," said Thelma suddenly. "Did you really go behind the scenes
to-night?"

"Yes, I did," he answered readily. "I was obliged to go on a matter of
business--a very disagreeable and unpleasant matter too."

"And what was it?" she asked timidly, yet hopefully.

"My pet, I can't tell you! I wish I could! It's a secret I'm bound not
to betray--a secret which involves the name of another person who'd be
wretched if I were to mention it to you. There,--don't let us talk about
it any more!"

"Very well, Philip," said Thelma resignedly,--but though she smiled, a
sudden presentiment of evil depressed her. The figure of the vulgar,
half-clothed, painted creature known as Violet Vere rose up mockingly
before her eyes,--and the half-scornful, half-jesting words of Lady
Winsleigh rang persistently in her ears.

On reaching home, Philip went straight to Neville's little study and
remained with him in earnest conversation f