as seeing
people.

James, moving with the rapidity that ever astonished the observers
of his long figure and absorbed expression, went forthwith into the
drawing-room without permitting this to be ascertained. He found Irene
seated at the piano with her hands arrested on the keys, evidently
listening to the voices in the hall. She greeted him without smiling.

"Your mother-in-law's in bed," he began, hoping at once to enlist her
sympathy. "I've got the carriage here. Now, be a good girl, and put on
your hat and come with me for a drive. It'll do you good!"

Irene looked at him as though about to refuse, but, seeming to change
her mind, went upstairs, and came down again with her hat on.

"Where are you going to take me?" she asked.

"We'll just go down to Robin Hill," said James, spluttering out his
words very quick; "the horses want exercise, and I should like to see
what they've been doing down there."

Irene hung back, but again changed her mind, and went out to the
carriage, James brooding over her closely, to make quite sure.

It was not before he had got her more than half way that he began:
"Soames is very fond of you--he won't have anything said against you;
why don't you show him more affection?"

Irene flushed, and said in a low voice: "I can't show what I haven't
got."

James looked at her sharply; he felt that now he had her in his own
carriage, with his own horses and servants, he was really in command of
the situation. She could not put him off; nor would she make a scene in
public.

"I can't think what you're about," he said. "He's a very good husband!"

Irene's answer was so low as to be almost inaudible among the sounds of
traffic. He caught the words: "You are not married to him!"

"What's that got to do with it? He's given you everything you want. He's
always ready to take you anywhere, and now he's built you this house in
the country. It's not as if you had anything of your own."

"No."

Again James looked at her; he could not make out the expression on her
face. She looked almost as if she were going to cry, and yet....

"I'm sure," he muttered hastily, "we've all tried to be kind to you."

Irene's lips quivered; to his dismay James saw a tear steal down her
cheek. He felt a choke rise in his own throat.

"We're all fond of you," he said, "if you'd only"--he was going to say,
"behave yourself," but changed it to--"if you'd only be more of a wife
to him."

Irene did not answer,