hroat.

"I say, Brett," cried a strangled voice, "it's me."

"Who is it?" asked Hubert. "Alison?" and he released his hold.

"Yes," said the other, making sure that all his throat was there.
Brett, he ruefully reflected, was one of those big devils and big
devils never knew their strength. "I've been taking your wife to the
causerie."

"Oh!" answered Hubert. Perhaps it was excitement only, but he felt of
a sudden as though he could resume his grip with pleasure. "It must
have been a long affair."

The sneer was obvious. He never had been jealous about Helena
before--but things were happening to-night.

"Oh," laughed the other apologetically: and Hubert realised what an ass
he was, wondered why he had ever got to know him, "we've been in some
time."

"I see," said Hubert. "Well, good-night." He could not trust himself
much longer. It was so dark, and that grip had been vaguely satisfying
to some primaeval side of him....

Geoffrey Alison returned the greeting and slid away with definite
relief. He had not liked the way that Brett said that "I see." It was
so obvious he did. And then about the causerie having been long----!

When he grew cooler, sitting in the tube, he began to wonder nervously
how this would affect his friendship with Helena (he always thought of
her as that), and looked rather doubtfully along the future. Well, he
should see. He wouldn't call again until she wrote.

Only one thing was certain. Her husband suspected him--and he felt
wickeder than ever....

Hubert meanwhile let himself into the dark hall and merely throwing
down his hat, without taking off his coat, strode full of war into the
drawing-room. Helena had just finished the postponed yawn with some
luxuriance and decided that Mr. Alison must get up very early and do
all his work then, and that made him so dull at night. She turned
delightedly as the door opened. Good: Hugh already!

"Helena," he said, storming in, "why did you pretend you weren't going
to the show to-night?"

"What _do_ you mean, Hugh?" she asked, utterly surprised. "I wasn't."
She hoped that he had not been drinking. Men, she believed, mostly did
when they got out alone.

"You must think me a fool," he said. "But I don't intend to have an
argument about it. I only want to say at once that I think it would be
far better if you saw less of your friend Mr. Alison. I meant to say
it anyhow. People are talking."

"But I don't understand,"