, what artists do."

"They paint," he answered gravely; and that made her laugh again. Ally
was not a man to trust; she had been a real fool; but he was splendid
company. He told her everything that artists did. He made her laugh a
lot. Those endless hours of misery seemed nightmares of the
past--until she was alone again.

But when business released Hubert Brett conveniently in time for their
silent meal, he found in the hall a wife somehow less broken and
submissive; less the girl-penitent serving a long sentence, much more a
woman with secret laughter playing round the hard lines of her mouth.

"I'm glad you've got back," she said in the usual tone. "I took your
advice and asked Mr. Alison to tea."

He had the sense to make no answer. But back in his study, he was weak
enough to slam the door. And she was glad to hear it.

CHAPTER XXIV

BATTLE ROYAL

Geoffrey Alison felt very well content as he rang the bell and hastily
fluffed out his hair. He was the bringer of good tidings and
everything in general was going as it ought to go. Zoe was quite her
old self again (would even let him call her that), had recovered from
her silly temper, seen that he was not to blame, and now looked like
making a bit of a stand against the conceited swine Brett, whom she had
seen through finally.

He beamed on Lily, who remained impassive. There were, to her
expressed mind, men and men. Mr. Alison, she had told Cook, was of the
second kind.

"Is Mrs. Brett at home?" he asked.

"Mr. Brett, did you say, sir?" asked Lily. Humour is a wonderful
assistance to those whose work is with the daily round.

"No; _Mrs._," he replied, dwelling upon the sibilants in a way to
delight an elocution-tutor.

He certainly did not want to see Brett, he told himself as Lily finally
held the door open. He had not seen him since the crash, and fellows
who had met him in the tube said that he was pretty surly. Geoffrey
Alison did not like surly people--nor had he quite forgotten that scene
in the garden.

Now whether it was that in his general delight with life he rang the
bell with more than customary vigour and so brought out the owner of
the house, or whether (as seems probable) there is some devilish
telepathy that always tinkles into people's heads the exact thought one
most wishes to avoid--whatever the cause, as in Lily's wake Geoffrey
Alison stepped quietly past the study door this morning, it opened and
Hubert looke