ut little chance that she should be out
on the very day on which she knew that he would get her note. "Oh, so
you have come at last," she said as soon as the drawing-room door was
closed. She did not get up from her chair, and there was therefore no
danger of that immediate embrace which he had felt that it would be
almost equally dangerous to refuse or to accept.

"Yes," he said, "I have come."

"And now sit down and make yourself comfortable. It's very bad out of
doors, isn't it?"

"Cold, but dry."

"With a wretched east wind. I know it, and I don't mean to stir out the
whole day. So you may put your hat down, and not think of going for the
next hour and a half." It was true that he had his hat still in his
hand, and he deposited it forthwith on the floor, feeling that had he
been master of the occasion, he would have got rid of it less
awkwardly. "I shouldn't wonder if Mary were to be here by and by. There
was a sort of engagement that she and Jack De Baron were to come and
play bagatelle in the back drawing-room; but Jack never comes if he
says he will, and I daresay she has forgotten all about it."

He found that his purpose was altogether upset. In the first place, he
could hardly begin about her unfortunate passion when she received him
just as though he were an ordinary acquaintance; and then the whole
tenour of his mind was altered by this allusion to Jack De Baron. Had
it come to this, that he could not get through a day without having
Jack De Baron thrown at his head? He had from the first been averse to
living in London; but this was much worse than he had expected. Was it
to be endured that his wife should make appointments to play bagatelle
with Jack De Baron by way of passing her time? "I had heard nothing
about it," he said with gloomy, truthful significance. It was
impossible for him to lie even by a glance of his eye or a tone of his
voice. He told it all at once; how unwilling he was that his wife
should come out on purpose to meet this man, and how little able he
felt himself to prevent it.

"Of course dear Mary has to amuse herself," said the lady, answering
the man's look rather than his words. "And why should she not?"

"I don't know that bagatelle is a very improving occupation."

"Or Jack a very improving companion, perhaps. But I can tell you,
George, that there are more dangerous companions than poor Jack. And
then, Mary, who is the sweetest, dearest young woman I know, is not
impuls