ut he came on the scene just too late, worse luck! Why
wouldn't he have done just as well? He's as mad as she--madder. He
believes all the rubbish she does--talks such _rot_, the people tell me,
in his meetings. But then he's good company--he amuses you--you don't
need to be on your p's and q's with _him_. Why wouldn't she have taken
up with him? As far as money goes they could have rubbed along. _He's_
not the man to starve when there are game-pies going. It's just bad
luck."

Mrs. Boyce smiled a little.

"What there is to make you suppose that she would have inclined to him,
I don't exactly see. She has been taken up with Mr. Raeburn, really,
from the first week of her arrival here."

"Well, I dare say--there was no one else," said her husband, testily.
"That's natural enough. It's just what I say. All I know is, Wharton
shall be free to use this house just as he pleases during his
canvassing, whatever the Raeburns may say."

He bent forward and poked the somewhat sluggish fire with a violence
which hindered rather than helped it. Mrs. Boyce's smile had quite
vanished. She perfectly understood all that was implied, whether in his
instinctive dislike of Aldous Raeburn, or in his cordiality towards
young Wharton.

After a minute's silence, he got up again and left the room, walking, as
she observed, with difficulty. She stopped a minute or so in the same
place after he had gone, turning her rings absently on her thin fingers.
She was thinking of some remarks which Dr. Clarke, the excellent and
experienced local doctor, had made to her on the occasion of his last
visit. With all the force of her strong will she had set herself to
disbelieve them. But they had had subtle effects already. Finally she
too went upstairs, bidding Marcella, whom she met coming down, hurry
William with the tea, as Mr. Wharton might arrive any moment.

* * * * *

Marcella saw the room shut up--the large, shabby, beautiful room--the
lamps brought in, fresh wood thrown on the fire to make it blaze, and
the tea-table set out. Then she sat herself down on a low chair by the
fire, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped
in front of her. Her black dress revealed her fine full throat and her
white wrists, for she had an impatience of restraint anywhere, and wore
frills and falls of black lace where other people would have followed
the fashion in high collars and close wristbands. What mu