e door,
wondering what he could do to reawaken the spirit of enjoyment that
had danced in her eyes the day at Wolfshead.

"Will you dine with me to-morrow if I can get Mrs. McLean to chaperon
us?" he asked.

The phrase "chaperon us" was pleasant to him; it implied they had a
common interest in being together, and her companionship meant much to
him. He smiled persuasively--waiting, hat in hand, for her answer.

Deena felt an almost irresistible desire to say yes--to follow the
suggestions of this overmastering delightful companion who seemed to
make her happiness his care, but she managed to refuse.

"Thank you very much," she murmured, "it is quite impossible."

It was not at all impossible, as Stephen knew, and he turned away with
a short good-night. He wondered whether his friend's wife were a
prude.

Undoubtedly the refusal was prudent, whether Mrs. Ponsonby were a
prude or no, but it had its rise in quite a different cause. She had
no dress she considered suitable for such an occasion. Her wedding
dress still hung in ghostly splendor in a closet all by itself, but
that was too grand, and the others of her trousseau had been few in
number and plain in make, and would now have been consigned to the rag
bag had she seen any means of supplying their place. They were
certainly too shabby to grace one of Stephen's beautiful little
dinners, which were the pride of Harmouth.

Deena's ideas of French in his own _entourage_ as opposed to him in
hers were amusing. Viewed in the light of Simeon's friend, voluntarily
seeking their companionship and sharing their modest hospitality, they
met on terms of perfect equality; but when associated with his own
surroundings he seemed transformed into a person of fashion, haughty
and aloof. It was quite absurd. Stephen was as simple and
straightforward in one relation as the other, but perhaps the truth
was that Deena was afraid of his servants.

The house was the most attractive in the town, and stood in the midst
of well-kept grounds with smooth lawns and conservatories, and Deena
felt oppressed by so much prosperity. On the few occasions when Simeon
had taken her there to lunch on Sunday--the only dissipation he
allowed himself---she had thought the butler supercilious, and the
maid who came to help her off with her wraps, snippy. She had
suspected the woman of turning her little coat inside out after it was
confided to her care, and sneering at its common lining.

Deena w