king Neville with him;
and after her household duties were over, Thelma prepared herself to go
and lunch with old Mrs. Lorimer, and see what she would advise
concerning the affair of Sir Francis Lennox. But, at the same time, she
resolved that nothing should make her speak of the reports that were
afloat about her husband and Violet Vere.

"I know it is all false," she said to herself over and over again. "And
the people here are as silly as the peasants in Bosekop, ready to
believe any untruth so long as it gives them something to talk about.
But they may chatter as they please--I shall not say one word, not even
to Philip--for it would seem as if I mistrusted him."

Thus she put away all the morbid fancies that threatened to oppress her,
and became almost cheerful.

And while she made her simple plans for pleasantly passing the long,
dull day of her husband's enforced absence, her friend, Lady Winsleigh,
was making arrangements of a very different nature. Her ladyship had
received a telegram from Sir Francis Lennox that morning. The pink
missive had apparently put her in an excellent humor, though, after
reading it, she crumpled it up and threw it in the waste-paper basket,
from which receptacle, Louise Renaud, her astute attendant, half an hour
later extracted it, secreting it in her own pocket for private perusal
at leisure. She ordered her brougham, saying she was going out on
business,--and before departing, she took from her dressing-case certain
bank-notes and crammed them hastily into her purse--a purse which, in
all good faith, she handed to her maid to put in her sealskin muff-bag.
Of course, Louise managed to make herself aware of its contents,--but
when her ladyship at last entered her carriage her unexpected order, "To
the Brilliant Theatre, Strand," was sufficient to startle Briggs, and
cause him to exchange surprise signals with "Mamzelle," who merely
smiled a prim, incomprehensible smile.

"_Where_ did your la'ship say?" asked Briggs dubiously.

"Are you getting deaf, Briggs?" responded his mistress pleasantly. "To
the Brilliant Theatre!" She raised her voice, and spoke with distinct
emphasis. There was no mistaking her. Briggs touched his hat,--in the
same instant he winked at Louise, and then the carriage rolled away.

At night, the Brilliant Theatre is a pretty little place,--comfortable,
cosy, bright, and deserving of its name;--in broad day, it is none of
these things. A squalid dreariness se