in
bed, ill.'

'Ill?' asked Clarice quickly. 'You don't mean that.'

'Yes. I'm so concerned. He wrote to tell me all about it.'

Fielding looked displeased, and much the same expression was to be seen
on the face of Clarice. Mrs. Willoughby was serenely unconscious of the
effect of her words.

'I heard that he was in bed,' interposed Conway carelessly. 'But
apparently he has got something to console himself with.'

'Yes. He wrote to me about that too,' said Mrs. Willoughby. 'Fancy,
Clarice! He has inherited quite a good income. An uncle or somebody left
it to him.'

Clarice expressed an acid satisfaction at the news. She dropped behind
with Fielding.

'You didn't know that Mr. Mallinson was ill?' she asked. 'Did none of his
friends know except Connie?' and then there was a perceptible accent of
pique in her voice.

Fielding did not answer the question immediately. He had been brought of
a sudden to the vexatious conclusion that Mrs. Willoughby was a coquette
just like the rest of her trivial sex--no better, indeed, than the girl
at his side, whose first anxiety was not as to whether Mallinson was
seriously ill, but why he wrote the information to Mrs. Willoughby. He
felt that Mrs. Willoughby had no right to trifle with Mallinson. The poor
fellow had already suffered his full share of that kind of experience.

Miss Le Mesurier repeated her question impatiently, and Fielding suddenly
realised that Miss Le Mesurier's pique might prove useful in setting
matters right. He determined to encourage it.

'None that I'm aware of,' he replied. 'Mrs. Willoughby, of course, would
be likely to know first.'

'Why?'

'Haven't you noticed? They have struck up a great friendship
lately--always pair off together, you know.'

Miss Le Mesurier's lips curled at the despicable phrase, but she blamed
Mrs. Willoughby for the fact which it described, not Sidney Mallinson.
His attitude she could understand, and make allowance for; it had been a
despairing act prompted by an instinct of self-preservation to rid
himself of the hopeless thought of her. An unsuccessful act too, for the
poor fellow had broken down. She had no doubts as to the origin of his
illness, and overflowed promptly with sympathy. Her resentment against
Mrs. Willoughby none the less remained.

Driving homewards she asked her, 'Why didn't you tell me before that Mr.
Mallinson was ill?'

'My dear, I never gave a thought to it until I saw Mr. Fielding. The
illn