NO more had been said between them about the Hilliers’ party; and Percy began to hope that it would be dropped. But on the morning Bertha asked him if he would like to take her out to dinner first with Madeline; assuming that, as he had said no more about it, he intended to go.

With those letters upstairs in the box, how could he?

“I simply can’t,” he answered. “I don’t wish to go to that man’s house.”

“Then must I take Madeline alone?” said Bertha. “In all these years, Percy, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party without you.”

“And I don’t see why you should begin now,” he answered.

“But, Percy, I want to go. Only for a few minutes.”

“I’d much rather you didn’t.”Bertha thought this tyrannical. She had promised Nigel, because he had implied to her that it would get him out of the domestic difficulty.

“Oh, do, Percy dear. It’s treating me as if you didn’t trust me. After all … if you like I’ll swear to arrange never to see Nigel again.”

“I wish you would.”

“It’s only because I think it would look marked.”

Percy thought there was something in that, and he didn’t dislike the idea of proving to the person, whoever it was, that had written the letters, how little effect they had had. Yet, they had left a tinge of jealousy that would easily be roused again, especially at her insistence. He noticed that she didn’t make the fact that she was chaperoning Madeline an excuse, as most women would have done. She was frank about it. Still, he tried once more.

“I don’t want you to go.”

“But I want to.”

She was not particularly fond of opposition, and began to look annoyed. She thought Percy was beginning to sit on her a little too much.

“Well,” he said, “I shall not dine out with you and Madeline first: I don’t care to. But I’ll hire an electric motor for you at eleven, and it shall fetch you at twelve-thirty. If Madeline doesn’t want to come then, she can easily go back alone. It isn’t far for her.”

“Oh, she won’t want to stop any longer than that.”

“Oh, very well, we’ll leave it like that. I shall dine at the club.”

“It’s unkind of you. I believe you don’t want to see me start.”

“You’re quite right. I hate the idea of your appearing there in your lovely new dress. I suppose you want to wear it?”

“Oh, I don’t care in the least,” she answered, “if you’d rather not.”

“Oh, hang it! Wear what you like,” he answered rather crossly.

She did not see him again before she started, and, naturally, being a woman, she put on the new dress.

It was pale yellow, and she knew Percy would have liked it and would have called her a canary.

She went out, not in the best of tempers, and Madeline also, though looking very charming, did not look forward to the entertainment, and was thinking, with rather an aching heart, of Rupert in the lagoons of Venice.

The Hilliers’ house was arranged with the utmost gorgeousness. Nigel felt a little return of his pride in it to-night. It was covered all over with rambler roses, and looked magnificent. There was such a crowd that Nigel hoped to get a little talk alone with Bertha, but feared she would not come. He was agreeably surprised to see her arrive alone with Madeline.

It so happened that Mary was not in the room when they were announced, and very soon Nigel managed to take her down, first into the refreshment-room, and then into the boudoir, which had been arranged with draperies and shaded lights.

“I just want to have a few words with you,” he said, and got her into a little corner.

There was a heavy scent of roses; the music sounded faintly.

“Bertha!” he said. “It was too sweet of you to come. I shall never forget it. You don’t know how miserable I am.”

“Oh, rubbish!” she answered. “You’ve no earthly reason to be. I wish you wouldn’t talk nonsense.”

“I’ve never seen you look so lovely.”

“I shall go away if you talk like that. Can’t you see I don’t like it?”

“I wonder Percy allowed you to come alone, looking like that.”“I came because I promised,” she said. “You made me think, in some mysterious way, it would be a good thing for you. But after what you said about Mary, I want this to be distinctly understood: you are not to come and see me any more. Nothing in the world I should loathe so much as to be the cause of any trouble.”

“Oh, my dear, but that you never could,” he answered quickly.

“I hope not, and I’m not going to risk it. You chose your life, Nigel, and you have every reason to be happy.”

“Have I? You don’t know.”

“Think of your children. I haven’t got that pleasure, and yet I’m happy.”

“Are you madly in love with Percy?” he asked, with a smile.

“Yes, I am,” she answered.

At this moment a small crowd of people came in at the door. Mary, who was with them, looked hurriedly round the room, and seeing Bertha and Nigel in the corner, called him, taking no notice of her.

Bertha half rose, intending to go and shake hands with her, and Nigel quickly went to meet her, but Bertha paused, thinking Mary looked strange. She was very pale, and the white dress she wore made her look paler against her dull red hair. She wore a tiara, which seemed a little crooked, and her hair was disarranged. She was pale and trembling, but spoke in a loud voice that Bertha could hear. Within two yards of her, she said to Nigel, gesticulating with a feather fan:

“If you don’t make that woman go away at once, I shall make a public scene!”

Bertha started up and looked at her in astonishment.

Mary, glaring at her, and still talking loudly, allowed Nigel to lead her out of the room.

He then came back.

“I think my wife’s gone mad! Forgive her. She’s ill, or something.”

“I’m going now at once,” said Bertha calmly. “Have a cab called for me, and let Madeline know that the motor will be here for her at half-past twelve. Leave me now—I don’t want anything.”

“For God’s sake forgive me. She’s off her head,” said Nigel incoherently.

At her wish he ran upstairs.

Bertha got her cloak, and telling a friend she met that she was going on to a dance, she got into a taxi and went home.