Accordingly, they were in the library, Ashe on the defensive, Lady
Tranmore nervous, embarrassed, and starting at a sound. Both of them
watched the door. Both looked for and dreaded the advent of Kitty.

"Dear William," said his mother at last, stretching her hand across a
small table which stood between them and laying it on her son's, "you'll
forgive me, won't you?--even if I do seem to you prudish and absurd. But
I am afraid you <i>ought</i> to tell Kitty some of the unkind things people
are saying! You know I've tried, and she wouldn't listen to me. And you
ought to beg her--yes, William, indeed you ought!--not to give any
further occasion for them."

She looked at him anxiously, full Of that timidity which haunts the
deepest and tenderest affections. She had just given him to read a
letter from Lady Grosville to herself. Ashe ran through it, then laid it
down with a gesture of scorn.

"Kitty apparently enjoyed a moonlight walk with Cliffe. Why shouldn't
she? Lady Grosville thinks the moon was made to sleep by--other people
don't."

"But, William!--at night--when everybody had gone to bed--escaping from
the house--they two alone!"

Lady Tranmore looked at him entreatingly, as though driven to protest,
and yet hating the sound of her own words.

Ashe laughed. He was smoking with an air so nonchalant that his mother's
heart sank. For she divined that criticism in the society around her
which she was never allowed to hear. Was it true, indeed, that his
natural indolence could not rouse itself even to the defence of a young
wife's reputation?

"All the fault of the Grosvilles," said Ashe, after a moment, lighting
another cigarette, "in shutting up their great heavy house, and drawing
their great heavy curtains on a May night, when all reasonable people
want to be out-of-doors. My dear mother, what's the good of paying any
attention to what people like Lady Grosville say of people like Kitty?
You might as well expect Deborah to hit it off with Ariel!"

"William, don't laugh!" said his mother, in distress. "Geoffrey Cliffe
is not a man to be trusted. You and I know that of old. He is a boaster,
and--"

"And a liar!" said Ashe, quietly. "Oh! I know that."

"And yet he has this power over women--one ought to look it in the
face. William, dearest William!" she leaned over and clasped his hand
close in both hers, "do persuade Kitty to go away from London now--at
once!"

"Kitty won't go," said Ashe, quietly, "I a