She could not plead
that her husband was afraid of Jack De Baron. Nor certainly would she
admit to herself that she was in the least afraid of him herself. But
for her husband's foolish jealousy she would infinitely have preferred
the arrangement as now made,--just as a little girl prefers as a
playmate a handsome boy whom she has long known, to some ill-visaged
stranger with whom she has never quarrelled and never again made
friends. But when she saw her husband she found herself unable to tell
him of the change which had been made. She was not actor enough to be
able to mention Jack De Baron's name to him with tranquillity.

On the next morning,--the morning of the important day,--she heard
casually from Mrs. Jones that Lord George had been at Mrs. Houghton's
house. She had quite understood from her husband that he intended to
see that evil woman again after the discovery and reading of the
letter. He had himself told her that he intended it; and she, if she
had not actually assented, had made no protest against his doing so.
But that visit, represented as being one final necessary visit, had,
she was well aware, been made some time since. She had not asked him
what had taken place. She had been unwilling to show any doubt by such
a question. The evil woman's name had never been on her tongue since
the day on which the letter had been read. But now, when she heard that
he was there again, so soon, as a friend joining in general
conversation in the evil woman's house, the matter did touch her. Could
it be that he was deceiving her after all, and that he loved the woman?
Did he really like that helmet, that paint and that affected laugh? And
had he lied to her,--deceived her with a premeditated story which must
have been full of lies? She could hardly bring herself to believe this;
and yet, why, why, why should he be there? The visit of which he had
spoken had been one intended to put an end to all close
friendship,--one in which he was to tell the woman that though the
scandal of an outward quarrel might be avoided, he and she were to meet
no more. And yet he was there. For aught she knew, he might be there
every day! She did know that Mrs. Montacute Jones had found him there.
Then he could come home to her and talk of the impropriety of dancing!
He could do such thinks as this, and yet be angry with her because she
liked the society of Captain De Baron!

Certainly she would dance with Captain De Baron. Let him come