cquaintance of Vera as so many years absolutely wasted. And Stephen
did not seem to care.

They retired to rest that evening up a staircase whose banisters the
industrious hands of Mr Bittenger had entwined with holly and paper
festoons, and bade each other a merry Christmas with immense fervour;
but in the conjugal chamber Stephen maintained his policy of implacable
silence. And, naturally, Vera maintained hers. Could it be expected of
her that she should yield? The fault was all Stephen's. He ought to
have taken her to The Bear, Switzerland. Then there would have been no
dream, no Mr Bittenger, and no danger. But as things were, within
twenty-four hours he would be a dead man.

And throughout Christmas Day Vera, beneath the gaiety with which she
met the vivacious sallies of Mr Bittenger, waited in horrible suspense
for the dream to fulfil itself. Stephen alone observed her agitated
condition. Stephen said to himself: 'The quarrel is getting on her
nerves. She'll yield before she's a day older. It will do her good.
Then I'll make it up to her handsomely. But she must yield first.'

He little knew he was standing on the edge of the precipice of death.

The Christmas dinner succeeded admirably; and Stephen, in whom courage
was seldom lacking, ate half a mince-pie. The day was almost over. No
premature decease had so far occurred. And when both the men said that,
if Vera permitted, they would come with her at once to the drawing-room
and smoke there, Vera decided that after all dreams were nonsense. She
entered the drawing-room first, and Mr Bittenger followed her, with
Stephen behind; but just as Stephen was crossing the mat the gardener,
holding a parcel in his hands and looking rather strange there in the
hall, spoke to him. And Stephen stopped and called to Mr Bittenger. And
the drawing-room door was closed upon Vera.

She waited, solitary, for an incredible space of time, and then, having
heard unaccustomed and violent sounds in the distance, she could
contain herself no longer, and she rang the bell.

'Louisa,' she demanded of the parlourmaid, 'where is your master?'

'Oh, ma'am,' replied Louisa, giggling--a little licence was surely
permissible to the girl on Christmas night--'Oh, ma'am, there's such a
to-do! Tinsley has just brought some boxing-gloves, and master and Mr
Bittenger have got their coats off in the dining-room. And they've had
the table pushed up by the door, and you never saw such a set-out in