ble, the sense of
what was expected of him was there, steadying and restraining, like an
atmospheric pressure.

Thus far they had had few visitors, and had accepted no invitations to
join house-parties elsewhere. They agreed without speaking about it that
it was more their form to entertain than to be entertained, and certain
people were coming to them later in the month. These were quite wholly
of Edith's set and selection, for Thorpe had no friends or acquaintances
outside her circle for whose presence he had any desire--and among these
prospective guests were a Duke and a Duchess. Once, such a fact would
have excited Thorpe's imagination. He regarded it now as something
appropriate under the circumstances, and gave it little further thought.
His placid, satisfied life was not dependent upon the stir of guests
coming and going, even though they were the great of the earth.
He walked on his spacious terrace after luncheon--a tall, portly,
well-groomed figure of a man, of relaxed, easy aspect, with his big
cigar, and his panama hat, and his loose clothes of choice fabrics and
exquisite tailoring--and said to himself that it was the finest view
in England--and then, to his own surprise, caught himself in the act of
yawning.

From under the silk curtains and awning of a window-doorway at the end
of the terrace, his wife issued and came toward him. Her head was bare,
and she had the grace and fresh beauty of a young girl in her simple
light gown of some summery figured stuff.

"What do you say to going off somewhere--tomorrow if you
like--travelling abroad?" he called out, as she approached him. The
idea, only a moment old in his mind, had grown to great proportions.
"How can we?" she asked, upon the briefest thought. "THEY are coming at
the end of the week. This is Monday, and they arrive on the 12th--that's
this Saturday."

"So soon as that!" he exclaimed. "I thought it was later. H-m! I don't
know--I think perhaps I'll go up to London this evening. I'm by way of
feeling restless all at once. Will you come up with me?"

She shook her head. "I can't think of anything in London that would be
tolerable."

He gave a vague little laugh. "I shall probably hate it myself when I
get there," he speculated. "There isn't anybody I want to see--there
isn't anything I want to do. I don' t know--perhaps it might liven me
up."

Her face took on a look of enquiring gravity. "Are you getting tired of
it, then?" She put the ques