TO anyone who knew Percy Kellynch and his wife, it would have been a matter of some surprise to observe the extreme enthusiasm and devotion that she showed for him. He was an excellent fellow, and had many good qualities, but he was not mentally by any means anything at all extraordinary; she was a very much more highly organised being in every possible way than he was. Percy was exceedingly kind and straight, yet there were, doubtless, many thousands of men exactly like him in England. In his rather simple and commonplace point of view he was, perhaps more like an ordinary English soldier than a barrister. He did not worship false gods, but, not being a soldier, and having perhaps learnt more of life in some respects than they generally do, he was inclined to be rather surprised at his own cleverness. In a quiet way he had a high opinion of himself. He had been disposed to be a superior young man at twenty, and now, at thirty, he was not without a tinge of self-satisfaction, even pompousness. That his quickly discerning, subtle little wife should like and appreciate his good qualities; that she should, being of an affectionate nature, value him, was not surprising; but that, with her sense of humour and remarkable quickness, even depth of intellect, she should absolutely worship and adore him—for it amounted to that—was rather a matter of astonishment. But it must be remembered that her first love, Nigel Hillier, when she was eighteen, was, obviously, just exactly what one would have expected to dazzle her—quick, lively, fascinating and witty—this early romance had been a terrible disappointment. Bertha had bravely been prepared to wait for years, or to marry him on the moment; she had not the faintest idea that the money difficulties would be used to put an end to it on his side. When he had broken it off, saying that he feared her father was right, and that it was for her sake, she was terribly pained, seeing at once that his love was not of the same quality as hers. But when, in less than a week after that, he told her of his other engagement, it very nearly broke her heart, as the phrase goes. Yet she cured herself; and considering how young she was, she had an astonishing power of self-control; she was almost cured of her love, if not her grief, in a fortnight! She accepted Percy at the time without romance, though with a great liking, and looking up to him with a certain trust, but very soon the good qualities, in which he differed so remarkably from Nigel, and even the points in which he was deficient and in which Nigel excelled, made her care for him more. As the years went on, Bertha, who could do nothing by halves, began to adore Percy more and more. She thought absolutely nothing of Nigel at all, so very little that she had let him dangle about without a thought of the past, being under the impression that he was contented in his married life. When he began again to find excuses to see her, and to start a sort of friendship, she did not discourage it, for the very reason that she wanted him to see that chapter in her life was absolutely closed and forgotten.

His extreme desire that she should come to their entertainment, his various implications—that Mary should think there was something in it if she didn’t come—then this new suggestion that he was not happy at home, and, on looking back, Percy’s extraordinary behaviour, suddenly made her see things in a different light. She saw that Nigel probably now imagined himself in love with her, and that it was not entirely Percy’s imagination; that it was even more necessary than she had thought to put an end to the friendship. It made her furious when she thought of it—the selfishness, the treachery—meanly to throw her over because Mary was rich, and afterwards to try and come back and spoil both their homes in amusing himself by a romance with her. Even if Bertha had not cared for her husband, Nigel would have been the very last man in the world she could have looked upon from that point of view. Amusing as he was, she never thought of him without a slightly contemptuous smile. And she loved Percy so very much; he was so entirely without self-interest: he might have a certain amount of harmless vanity, but he was purely unworldly, generous, broadminded and good, and his own advantage was the very last thing that ever entered his head.

Until the trouble about Nigel she had feared he was growing cold, but Percy’s conduct on that subject had thoroughly satisfied her. He had been very jealous but kind to her: he trusted and believed in her when she was frank, and he certainly seemed more in love with her than ever. Percy was so reliable, so true and real. She took up the dignified, charmingly flattered photograph of him. … What a noble forehead! What a beautiful figure he had! And though he seemed so calm and so cold, he was passionate and could be violent. His intellect was not above the average, but his power of emotion most certainly was. … Dear Percy!

And now she had promised to go to Nigel’s house, she would get Percy to agree that evening.

Bertha told him of Nigel’s visit, and of the request.

He frowned.

“You’ve accepted, and that’s enough. I suppose you had to say you were going. You can easily write Mrs. Hillier an excuse the next day. Dozens of people will do it.”

“Percy, I want to go.”

He looked up angrily and in surprise.

“You want to go? You certainly can’t. I don’t wish it. Why, remember what you promised. Is this infernal intimacy beginning again?”

“Percy, to-day is only the third time I’ve seen him since we talked about it! And I hadn’t the faintest idea he was coming to-day. I was surprised and annoyed to see him. Since Madeline broke it off with Charlie, we’ve heard nothing about them. Don’t you believe me?”“Naturally, I do. But it’s a very odd thing a man should call here, and beg you to promise to come to his wife’s party! Isn’t it?”

“Perhaps it is. We stopped seeing him so suddenly, you see.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” said Percy, with angry impatience. The typewritten letters were torturing him. He had long been ashamed of not having shown them to Bertha, and made a clean breast of it. It was another reason why he hated Nigel and wanted the whole subject absolutely put aside and forgotten.

“In my opinion it suggests a very curious relation his coming here to-day like this. Not on your side, dear,” he continued gently, putting his hand on hers. “But, if you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t know very much of the world, dear little Bertha, and in your innocence you are liable to be imprudent.”

This was Percy’s mistaken view of Bertha, but she did not dislike it. She was so determined now to be completely open that she did not try to put him off, and said candidly:

“It may be perfectly true that he’s rather more anxious for me to be at the party than he need be. But, after all, there’s not much harm in that, Percy. All I want is to go in with you for twenty minutes or half-an-hour, and then go away quite quickly. After that, if you like, I’ll give you my word of honour not to see him again.”

“What’s the object of it? No, I’m hanged if I go to that man’s house.”

“I promised as a special favour that I’d go.”

“But what’s the reason? Why is he so desperate you should be seen there?”

Percy frowned and thought a moment.

“Has his wife—do you think it’s been noticed he doesn’t come here so often?”

“It may have been. He didn’t say so.”

“Then it’s damned impertinence of him to dare to come and ask you. Why should I take you there to make things comfortable with him and his wife?”

“Oh, Percy!”

“I don’t want to have anything to do with them,” Percy repeated, frowning angrily at her.

She paused and said sweetly:

“Don’t look worried, darling. Won’t you anyhow think it over for a day or two?”

Percy thought. He was a lawyer and it struck him that if the letters were to be really ignored it might be better for them to go in and be seen at the party, and if Bertha promised never to see him again, he knew she was telling the truth. But it was hard; it jarred on him.“We’ll leave the subject for a few days, Bertha,” he said. “I’ll think it over. But what I decide then must be final.”

“Very well, Percy. … I’ve got such a lovely new dress! Pale primrose colour.”

“The dress I saw you trying on? The canary dress?”

“Yes.”

“No. I’m hanged if you’ll wear that there!” he exclaimed.

Bertha went into fits of laughter.

“Oh, Percy, how sweet of you to say that! You’re becoming a regular jealous husband, do you know? Darling! How delightful!”