that some shocking gaff had been committed.

For one second I hesitated, then:

"The things I have ordered are for Lady Grenellen," I said, calmly.
Mercifully we are about the same height. "You can send them with the
others to Myrlton Castle."

And with a few casual words of admiration about a set of lingerie that
was lying on the table, I sauntered out into the street.

I do not know exactly what I felt--a sense of insult, principally.

I did not hate Lady Grenellen, and I did not feel jealous about
Augustus. But it all seemed so terribly low.

She, a gentlewoman who must have been brought up with every
surrounding that could foster the sentiment of self-respect--she, the
Duke of Myrlshire's cousin, not a _parvenue_--beautiful, charming, and
young--to accept clothes from Augustus!

Oh! To take a lover for love, that one could understand and perhaps
pardon. The Marquis was grandmamma's lover, but--but not a common
person like Augustus--for clothes!

"Back to the Carlton, miss?" said the hansom man, breaking in upon my
thoughts. Perhaps I looked undecided as I stood in the street.

I glanced at my watch. There would be just time to catch the train.

"Euston," I said, and I swung to the doors. Then, as I sat there, I
realized that my knees were trembling.

At the station Augustus had already arrived, and, under pretence
of seeing whether the servants and luggage were all there, he was
scanning the platform anxiously for Lady Grenellen.

His face fell when he saw me. Perhaps he hoped she would have arrived
first.

I could not prevent myself from speaking in a voice of extra coldness,
although I tried hard to be natural. This was not the moment for
recriminations. Augustus noticed it, and, as usual, began to bluster.

"What's up?" he asked, irritably. "You look as white as a ghost."

"I will get into the carriage," I said, "I am cold." And Atkinson
and McGreggor arranged my cushion and rugs for me, Augustus uneasily
watching the platform meanwhile.

Two of the men who had been at Harley passed, and, seeing me, came up
and spoke. They were going to Myrlton, too, I found.

"Why don't you get in here?" I said, graciously, to the funny one they
had called "Billy," and whose other name I had never grasped. "It is
so dull to travel alone with one's husband."

He got in and sat opposite me. We talked merrily.

"Why don't you get in, Gurrage?" he said, "It is horribly cold with
the door open."

Augustus is