here's nothing more to tell.
I've told you the worst."

"You've told me, and I do not believe it."

"You'd better believe it. But, if you really don't, you can ask your
husband. Ask him where he goes to every week in that yacht of his. Ask
him what's become of Maggie Forrest, the pretty work-girl who made the
embroidered frock for Mrs. Ransome's little girl. Tell him you want one
like it for your little girl; and see what he looks like."

Anne rose too. Her faint white face frightened Lady Cayley. She had
wondered how Mrs. Majendie would look if she told her the truth about her
husband. Now she knew.

"My dear lady," said she, "what on earth did you expect?"

Anne went blindly towards the chimney-piece where the bell was. Lady
Cayley also turned. She meant to go, but not just yet.

"One moment, Mrs. Majendie, please, before you turn me out. I wouldn't
break my heart about it, if I were you. He might have done worse things."

"He has done nothing."

"Well--not much. He has done what I've told you. But, after all, what's
that?"

"Nothing to you, Lady Cayley, certainly," said Anne, as she rang the
bell.

She moved slowly towards the door. Lady Cayley followed to the threshold,
and laid her hand delicately on the jamb of the door as Mrs. Majendie
opened it. She raised to her set face the tender eyes of a suppliant.

"Mrs. Majendie," said she, "don't be hard on poor Wallie. He's never been
hard on you. He might have been." The latch sprang to under her gentle
pressure. "Look at it this way. He has kept all his marriage vows--except
one. You've broken all yours--except one. None of your friends will tell
you that. That's why _I_ tell you. Because I'm not a good woman, and I
don't count."

She moved her hand from the door. It opened wide, and Lady Cayley walked
serenely out.

She had said her say.

CHAPTER XXXII

Anne sat in her chair by the fireside, very still. She had turned out the
light, for it hurt her eyes and made her head ache. She had felt very
weak, and her knees shook under her as she crossed the room. Beyond that
she felt nothing, no amazement, no sorrow, no anger, nor any sort of
pang. If she had been aware of the trembling of her body, she would have
attributed it to the agitation of a disagreeable encounter. She shivered.
She thought there was a draught somewhere; but she did not rouse herself
to shut the window.

At eight o'clock a telegram from Majendie was brought to her. She was