ch Saton had ever been admitted. There were great bowls
of red roses upon the small ormolu table and on the mantelpiece.
Several exquisite etchings hung upon the lavender walls. The furniture
was all French. Every available space seemed occupied with costly
knick-knacks and curios. Photographs of beautiful women, men in court
dress and uniform, nearly all of them signed, were scattered about on
every available inch of space, and there was also that subtle air of
femininity about the apartment, to which he was unaccustomed, and
which went to his head like wine. It was evident that only privileged
visitors were received there, for apart from the air of intimacy which
seemed somehow to pervade the place, there were several articles of
apparel, and a pair of slippers lying upon the hearthrug.

Lady Mary herself came rustling in to him a few minutes after his
arrival, gorgeous in a wonderful shimmering gown, which seemed to hang
straight from her shoulders--the very latest creation in the way of
tea-gowns.

"I know you will forgive my receiving you like this," she said,
holding out her hand. "To tell you the truth, I dined here absolutely
alone, and I thought that I would not dress till afterwards. I am
going on to the ball at Huntingford House, and it is always less
trouble to go straight from one's maid. You have had coffee? Yes? Then
sit down at the end of this couch, please, and tell me whether you
think you can help me."

Saton was not altogether at his ease. The brilliancy of his
surroundings, the easy charm of the woman, were a little
disconcerting. And she was Rochester's wife, the wife of the man
whom he hated! That in itself was a thing to be always kept in mind.
Never before had she seemed so desirable.

"If you will tell me in what way I can be of service, Lady Mary," he
began----

She turned towards him pathetically.

"Really," she said, "I scarcely know why I asked for your help, except
that you seem to me so much cleverer than most of the men I know."

"I am afraid you over-rate my abilities," he said, with a slight
deprecating smile. "But at any rate, please be sure of one thing. You
could not have asked the advice of anyone more anxious to serve you."

"How kind you are!" she murmured. "I am going to make a confession,
and you will see, after all, that the trouble I am in has something to
do with you. You remember that night at Beauleys?"

"Yes!" he answered.

"We won't talk about it," she conti