ago the Wavertons were delighted to know me. Society seems
big, but it isn't. There are no end of little sets, one inside the
other. Two years ago, I was in the innermost, today I'm getting towards
the outside edge. Look at me! Do you see any change?"

He scrutinized her mercilessly in the cold morning light.

"You look older," he said, "and you have begun to use rouge, which is a
pity."

She laughed hardly.

"You think so? Well, I don't want Emily to see my hollow cheeks--or you!
Are you satisfied, Wingrave?"

"I am afraid I don't understand--" he began.

"Don't lie," she interrupted curtly. "You do understand. This is your
vengeance--very subtle and very crafty. Everything has turned out
exactly as you planned. You have broken us, Wingrave! I thought myself a
clever woman, but I might as well have tried to gamble with the angels.
Why don't you finish it off now--make me run away with you?"

"It would bore us both," he answered calmly. "Besides, you wouldn't
come!"

"I should, and you know that I would," she answered. "Everyone expects
it of us. I think myself that it would be more decent."

He looked at her thoughtfully.

"You are a strange woman," he said. "I find it hard sometimes to
understand you."

"Then you are a fool," she declared in a fierce little whisper. "You
know what is underneath all my suffering, all my broken pride! You know
that I was fool enough to keep the flame flickering--that I have cared
always and for no one else!"

He stopped the carriage.

"You are the most original woman I ever met," he said quietly. "I
neither wish to care nor be cared for by anyone. Go home to your
husband, and tell him to buy Treadwells up to six."

That same afternoon Wingrave met Aynesworth and cut him dead. Something
in the younger man's appearance, though, perplexed him. Aynesworth
certainly had not the air of a successful man. He was pale, carelessly
dressed, and apparently in ill health. Wingrave, after an amount of
hesitation, which was rare with him, turned his car towards Battersea,
and found himself, a few minutes later, mounting the five flights of
stone steps. Juliet herself opened the door to him. She gave a little
gasp when she saw who it was, and did not immediately invite him to
enter.

"I am sorry," Wingrave said coldly, "to inflict this visit upon you. If
you are alone, and afraid to ask me in, we can talk here."

Her cheeks became as flushed as a moment before they had been pale. S