'Why not?'

'It's a very poor little sitting-room, you know, and she might have
some friend. Isn't there anywhere you could go, and meet me afterwards?'

Frowning, Widdowson looked at his watch.

'Nearly six o'clock. There isn't much time.'

'Edmund, suppose you go home, and let me come back by myself? You
wouldn't mind, for once? I should like so much to have a talk with
Milly. If I got back about nine or half-past, I could have a little
supper, and that's all I should want.'

He answered abruptly,--

'Oh, but I can't have you going about alone at night.'

'Why not?' answered Monica, with a just perceptible note of irritation.
'Are you afraid I shall be robbed or murdered?'

'Nonsense. But you mustn't be alone.'

'Didn't I always use to be alone?'

He made an angry gesture.

'I have begged you not to speak of that. Why do you say what you know
is disagreeable to me? You used to do all sorts of things that you
never ought to have been obliged to do, and it's very painful to
remember it.'

Monica, seeing that people were approaching, walked on, and neither
spoke until they had nearly reached the end of the road.

'I think we had better go home,' Widdowson at length remarked.

'If you wish it; but I really don't see why I shouldn't call on Milly,
now that we are here.'

'Why didn't you speak of it before we left home? You ought to be more
methodical, Monica. Each morning I always plan how my day is to be
spent, and it would be much better if you would do the same. Then you
wouldn't be so restless and uncertain.'

'If I go to Rutland Street,' said Monica, without heeding this
admonition, 'couldn't you leave me there for an hour?'

'What in the world am I to do?'

'I should have thought you might walk about. It's a pity you don't know
more people, Edmund. It would make things so much pleasanter for you.'

In the end he consented to see her safely as far as Rutland Street,
occupy himself for an hour, and come back for her. They went by cab,
which was dismissed in Hampstead Road. Widdowson did not turn away
until he had ocular proof of his wife's admittance to the house where
Miss Vesper lived, and even then he walked no farther than the
neighbouring streets, returning about every ten minutes to watch the
house from a short distance, as though he feared Monica might have some
project of escape. His look was very bilious; trudging mechanically
hither and thither where fewest people were to be met, he k