l it pleases him to return. Compel him to seek you. Let him
find you at least outwardly happy and contented, careless of his neglect,
and more pleased than otherwise by his absence. Tell him to try Algiers in
August and Calcutta in September."

Margaret's eyes were widely distended. Her mobile features expressed both
astonishment and anxiety. She covered her face with her hands, in an
attitude of deep perplexity.

They knew she was wrestling with the impulse to take them wholly into
confidence.

At last she spoke:

"I cannot tell you," she said, "how comforting your words are. If you, a
stranger, can estimate the truth so nearly, why should I torture myself
because my husband is outrageously unjust? I will follow your counsel, Mr.
Brett. If possible, Nellie and I will leave here to-morrow. Perhaps Mrs.
Eastham may be able to come with us to town. Will you order my carriage? A
drive will do me good. Come with Nellie and me, and stay here to dinner.
For to-day we may dispense with ceremony."

She left the room, walking with a firm and confident step.

Brett turned to Miss Layton.

"Capella is in for trouble," he said, with a laugh. "He will be forced to
make love to his wife a second time."

CHAPTER XIV

MARGARET SPEAKS OUT

During the drive the presence of servants rendered conversation impossible
on the one topic that engrossed their thoughts.

The barrister, therefore, had an opportunity to display the other side of
his engaging personality, his singular knowledge of the world, his
acquaintance with the latest developments in literature and the arts, and
so much of London's _vie intime_ as was suited to the ears of polite
society.

Once he amused the ladies greatly by a trivial instance of his faculty for
deducing a definite fact from seemingly inadequate signs.

He was sitting with his back to the horses. They passed a field in which
some people were working. Neither of the women paid attention to the
scene. Brett, from mere force of habit, took in all details.

A little farther on he said: "Are we approaching a village?"

"Yes," answered Miss Layton, "a small place named Needham."

"Then it will not surprise me if, during the next two minutes, we meet a
horse and cart with a load of potatoes. The driver is a young man in his
shirt sleeves. Sitting by his side is a brown-eyed maid in a poke bonnet.
Probably his left arm follows the line of her apron string."

His hearers could not help bei