o that other, of which the sounds, she feared, might easily
have reached him.

His one remark, indeed, beyond the usual polite abstractions for Lily's
benefit, was "Ruth will be here at four o'clock. I want to see her
before tea."

"Very well," was her submissive answer.

But this life of a housekeeper--how could she endure it after what had
been? Hubert's only comments were aroused by letters, which his
humorous friends still continued to send, quizzing him about his
author-wife or sometimes facetiously alluding to some of the
peculiarities of down-trodden Zoee's husband. "This I owe to you," he
would say, throwing it across; or, "_You'll_ enjoy this better," if a
press-cutting contained nothing more pleasing to his vanity than a
reference to himself as the notorious Husband.

Helena dreaded anything of this sort in front of his sister. She
dreaded her visit entirely and hoped that it would not be long. Who
could tell whether Ruth were not to be installed as her perpetual
guardian, to watch over the wicked child? If so--but why make plans
until things happened? The present was enough, and her chief wisdom
lay in making the situation seem, to a third party, as easy as she
could. She would _force_ Hugh to speak.

There was a little fun in this idea, formed during lunch: and glancing
across at his sullen face, with the too active mouth now tightly enough
pressed, she only just restrained a laugh. It would have been the
first during these ghastly and interminable meals.

So soon as he had got up, with his horribly polite; "Finished?" and the
usual sigh, she ran almost lightly to the baize-door and called Lily.

"Lily," she asked, trying to compromise between an obvious whisper and
a voice too audible, "were there any press-cuttings this morning?"

"Yes, mum," answered the always respectful conspirator.

"You kept them, I hope?"

"Oh _yes_, mum,"--almost hurt.

"Well, Lily," and she hesitated, the coward of Conscience; "I think
I'll have them now and not to-night. Miss Brett will be here then."

Lily retreated and came back with the small envelope. Her eyes
glistened sympathetically in the half-darkness. Perhaps she
guessed--but she knew her own favourite among the Bretts.

Helena with that delicious thrill which makes crime so popular a hobby
among those unable to afford sport or collecting, went into the
drawing-room and boldly tore open the envelope addressed to "Hubert
Brett, Esq." She did n