ay when they find that I have been left entirely alone
to entertain our friends, while my husband passes a pleasant week in the
country with Miss de Gervais, and her--chaperon? It's an insult to our
guests as well as to me. But I quite understand. I, and my friends,
simply _don't count_ when Adrienne de Gervais wants you."

"I can't help it," he answered stubbornly, her scorn moving him less than
the waves that break in a shower of foam at the foot of a cliff. "You
knew you would have to trust me."

"_Trust you_?" cried Diana, shaken out of her composure. "Yes! But I
never promised to stand trustingly by while you put another woman in my
place. This is the end, Max. I've had enough."

A sudden look of apprehension dawned in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"What do I mean?"--bleakly. "Oh, nothing. I never do mean anything, do
I? . . . Well, good-bye. I expect you'll have left the house before I
come down to-morrow morning. I hope . . . you'll enjoy your visit to the
country."

She waited a moment, as though expecting some reply; then, as he neither
stirred nor spoke, she went quickly out of the room, closing the door
behind her.

CHAPTER XXII

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

"Jerry"--Diana came into her husband's study, where his secretary, who
had nothing further to do until his employer's return, was pottering
about putting the bookshelves to rights, "Jerry, I'm going to give you a
holiday. You can go down to Crailing to-day."

Jerry turned round in surprise.

"But, I say, Diana, I can't, you know--not while Max is away. I'm
supposed to make myself useful to you."

"Well, I think you did make yourself--very useful--last night, didn't
you?"

"Oh, that!" Jerry shrugged his shoulders. Then, surveying her
critically, he added: "You look awfully tired this morning, Di!"

She did. There were purple shadows beneath her eyes, and her face looked
white and drawn. The previous evening had been the occasion of her
reception, and she had carried it pluckily through single-handed. Quiet
and composed, she had moved about amongst her guests, covering Max's
absence with a light touch and pretty apology, her demeanour so natural
and unembarrassed that the tongues, which would otherwise have wagged
swiftly enough, were inevitably stilled.

But the strain had told upon her. This morning she looked haggard and
ill, more fit to be in bed than anything else.

"Oh, I shall be all rig