ely to call in at the
club for letters. But afterwards he remembered only that he had strolled
aimlessly along homewards, thinking deeply, and not particularly careful
as to his direction. Even then he would have passed the house in Sloane
Gardens without looking up, but for the civil "Good-night, sir," of a
coachman sitting on the box of a small brougham drawn up against the
kerb. He raised his head to return the salute, and realized at once where
he was. Almost at the same moment the front door opened, and behind a
glow of light in the hall he saw a familiar figure in the act of passing
out to her carriage. The street was well lit, and he was almost opposite
a lamp-post. She recognized him at once.

"Lawrence," she exclaimed, incredulously. "You--were you coming in?"

She was wrapped from head to foot in a long white opera cloak, but the
jewels in her hair and at her throat glistened in the flashing light. She
moved slowly forward to his side. Her maid, who had been coming out to
open the carriage door, lingered behind.

"I--upon my word, I scarcely know how I came here," he answered, a little
bewildered. "I was walking home--it is scarcely out of my way--and
thinking. You are going out?"

She nodded. Looking at her now more closely he saw the shadows under
her eyes, only imperfectly concealed. The little gesture with which she
answered him savoured of weariness.

"Yes, I was going out. I have sat alone with my thoughts all day, and I
don't want to end my life in a lunatic asylum. I want a little change,
that is all. If you will come in and talk to me instead, that will do as
well. Any sort of distraction, you see," she added, with a hard little
laugh, "just to keep me from--"

She did not finish her sentence. He looked at her gravely, and from her
to the waiting carriage. He suddenly realized how the altered condition
of affairs must affect her.

"I shall have to come and see you in a day or two," he said. "But
now--" he hesitated.

"Why not now, then?" she asked.

"You have an engagement," he said.

She shook her head.

"I was only going somewhere to supper. I was going to call for Eva
Fanesborough, and I suppose we should have had some bridge afterwards.
Come in instead, Lawrence. I can telephone to her."

Already a presage of evil seemed to be forming itself in his mind. He
would have given anything to have thought of some valid excuse.

"Your carriage--"

"Pooh!" she answered. "John, I shall not