he menace on Morella's dull face as she had watched
Theodora depart, and, above all, Wensleydown's behavior as they all said
good-night: nothing for him actually to take hold of, and yet enough to
convulse him with jealous fury.

Oh, if she were only his own! No man should dare to look at her like
that. But Josiah had stood by and not even noticed it.

Passionate jealousy is not a good foster-parent for prudence.

The Sunday came, and with it a wild, mad longing to be near her
again--never to leave her, to prevent any one else from so much as
saying a word. Others besides Wensleydown had begun to experience the
attraction of her beauty and charm. If considerations of wisdom should
keep him from her side, he would have the anguish of seeing these
others take his place, and that he could not suffer.

And as passion in a man rages higher than in the average woman,
especially passion when accelerated by the knowledge of another's desire
to rob it of its own, so Hector's conclusions were not so clear as
Theodora's.

He dared not look ahead. All he was conscious of was the absolute
determination to protect her from Wensleydown--to keep her for himself.

And fate was gathering all the threads together for an inevitable
catastrophe, or so it seemed to the Crow when the long, exquisite June
Sunday evening was drawing to a close and he looked back on the day.

He would have to report to Anne that the two had spent it practically
together; that Morella had a sullen red look on her face which boded ill
for the part she would play, when she should be asked to play some part;
that Mildred had done her best to render Theodora uncomfortable and
unhappy, and thus had thrown her more into Hector's protection. The
other women had been indifferent or mocking or amused, and Lady
Harrowfield had let it be seen she would have no mercy. Her comments
had been vitriolic.

Hector and Theodora had not gone out of sight, or been any different to
the others; only he had never left her, and there could be no mistaking
the devotion in his face.

For the whole day Sir Patrick had more or less taken charge of Josiah.
He was finding him more difficult to manipulate over money matters than
he had anticipated. Josiah's vulgar, round face and snub nose gave no
index to his shrewdness; with his mutton-chop whiskers and bald head,
Josiah was the personification of the smug grocer.

As she went to dress for dinner it seemed to Theodora that her hear