unless he is with
her. I don't think very much of my cousin Jack, but to her he is a
god."

"It is false."

"Very well. It is nothing to me; but you can hardly expect, my Lord,
that I should hear from you such pleasant truths as you have just told
me, and not give you back what I believe to be truth in return."

"Have I spoken evil of any one? But I will not stay here, Mrs.
Houghton, to make recriminations. You have spoken most cruelly of a
woman who never injured you, who has always been your firm friend. It
is my duty to protect her, and I shall always do so in all
circumstances. Good morning." Then he went before she could say another
word to him.

He would perhaps have been justified had he been a little proud of the
manner in which he had carried himself through this interview; but he
entertained no such feeling. To the lady he had just left he feared
that he had been rough and almost cruel. She was not to him the mass of
whipped cream turned sour which she may perhaps be to the reader.
Though he had been stirred to anger, he had been indignant with
circumstances rather than with Mrs. Houghton. But in truth the renewed
accusation against his wife made him so wretched that there was no room
in his breast for pride. He had been told that she liked Jack De
Baron's little finger better than his whole body, and had been so told
by one who knew both his wife and Jack De Baron. Of course there had
been spite and malice and every possible evil passion at work. But then
everybody was saying the same thing. Even though there were not a word
of truth in it, such a rumour alone would suffice to break his heart.
How was he to stop cruel tongues, especially the tongue of this woman,
who would now be his bitterest enemy? If such things were repeated by
all connected with him, how would he be able to reconcile his own
family to his wife? There was nothing which he valued now but the
respect which he held in his own family and that which his wife might
hold. And in his own mind he could not quite acquit her. She would not
be made to understand that she might injure his honour and destroy his
happiness even though she committed no great fault. To take her away
with a strong hand seemed to be his duty. But then there was the Dean,
who would most certainly take her part,--and he was afraid of the Dean.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

POPENJOY IS POPENJOY.

Then came Lady Brabazon's party. Lord George said nothing further to
his wi