The immediate effect of the little scene at the breakfast table was unfortunately that of an increased intimacy between Toni Rose and Herrick's wife.

Although Toni's exit from the battlefield had been quiet and even dignified, she found it hard to forgive Owen's plain-speaking on the subject of what he supposed to be her silly prejudice against Miss Loder. He had called her conduct vulgar and ungenerous, had spoken, moreover, in the tone in which a harsh schoolmaster might censure a naughty child; and all her love for Owen could not prevent a feeling of humiliation which galled her sorely.

The sight of Miss Loder, trim, competent, complacent, acted upon Toni's nerves in much the same way as the red rag is said to act on the nervous system of a bull. Although she dared not give vent openly to her dislike, Toni's behaviour towards her husband's secretary was by no means cordial; and Owen felt a slightly bitter resentment against his young wife for what he considered her most unreasonable inability to understand his position.

Millicent Loder was a god-send to a harassed literary man; and yet Owen began to wonder whether after this book were done it would be advisable to dispense with her services. That, however, seemed unfair to the girl, who liked her work with him, and would consider her dismissal uncalled for; and Owen generally finished his mental discussion with a resolution to ignore Toni's foolishness and trust to time to teach her toleration.

It must be remembered that neither Toni nor her husband had the slightest notion of what lay beneath Miss Loder's calm exterior. Envy of Toni as Rose's wife, scorn of her as the mistress of a beautiful and stately house, mingled in Millicent's breast with a strong and unreasonable longing to attract Toni's husband to herself; and the very fact that the marriage of these two was not what she called a success, lent additional keenness to all her emotions.

Oddly enough, Mrs. Herrick saw Millicent in something very like her true light, with a vision even clearer than that of the more interested Toni; and Eva Herrick, who since her imprisonment hated all men and most women, was not ill-pleased by the spectacle of Toni's dislike for her husband's secretary.

Very adroitly Eva set herself to foster that dislike. Although she had only encountered Miss Loder twice—once on the occasion of a call paid in return for Toni's ceremonious call upon her, and again during a wait at the station for the London train, Mrs. Herrick had quickly realized that Miss Loder liked Toni little better than Toni cared for her; and Eva was not the sort of woman to let any knowledge of that kind lie useless.

Without saying anything definite, she contrived to let Toni know she sympathized with her in the matter of Miss Loder's tenancy of the library; and although Toni never let slip a word which might have savoured of disloyalty to her husband, Mrs. Herrick knew, with a queer, uncanny shrewdness peculiar to her, that the girl's marriage was not altogether happy.

If it had been, it is improbable that Eva would have made a friend of Toni. As she said to herself now and again, she had no use for happy people. Her own life was spoilt—that the spoiling was due to herself she would have been the last to acknowledge—and she was in no humour to watch other people making a success of their lives. What she wanted was to see those around her as unhappy, as disillusioned, as discontented as herself; and all Toni's kindness, all her gentle, unselfish friendliness, went for nothing when the opportunity arose for a further darkening of Toni's already overshadowed sky.

On the surface, however, all was serenity. Eva accepted Toni's companionship with outward gratitude, and when once Herrick was satisfied that Toni knew what she was doing, he put no obstacles in the way of their better acquaintance.

Afterwards he told himself that he should have known better than to allow his wife to take advantage of Toni's unworldliness; but at the moment he was only too glad to find Eva apparently sincere in her liking for the simple-hearted Toni; and assuming, naturally, that Owen did not disapprove of the growing intimacy, he watched the affair with a gratitude made natural by his intense pity for his wife.

One day Mrs. Herrick asked Toni to accompany her to Sutton, where she had made an appointment for twelve o'clock. It appeared that she had suffered agonies of toothache while in prison, and although the authorities had done all they could for her, she was again in urgent need of a dentist's services. She had been informed of the arrival of a new practitioner in the little town, who came from a London practice; and to Toni's mingled surprise and dismay she found herself invited to accompany Mrs. Herrick on a visit to Mr. Dowson's surgery.

On the spur of the moment she confessed to a previous acquaintance with Mr. Dowson; and Eva thereupon plied her with questions as to his proficiency in his work.

"I don't want my teeth breaking or my jaw dislocating," she said. "Do you think the man's any good? It's such a bore to have to go up to town every time. Has he ever done any work for you?"

Toni, who had never had toothache in her life, was obliged to reply in the negative; but assured Eva that Mr. Dowson had an excellent reputation in Brixton.

"Well, I wrote and fixed up an appointment with him," said Eva carelessly, "so I suppose I'd better go. But if he isn't any good I shan't go again."

"I'll run you over in the car," said Toni eagerly, "and we'll go on to lunch somewhere. Miss Loder leaves early to-day, so it doesn't matter about my not being at home."

Mrs. Herrick accepted the offer promptly, and at five minutes past twelve the big car pulled up in front of Mr. Dowson's modest house, much to the excitement of the school children, who were at that moment released from the school-buildings at the end of the street.

A quiet little maid showed the visitors into the usual depressing waiting-room; and reappeared two minutes later to conduct them into the torture chamber itself; and since Eva flatly refused to go alone, Toni perforce accompanied her into the operator's presence.

Mr. Dowson's pale face lighted up at the sight of Toni with a radiance which even the self-engrossed Eva could not fail to note. He recollected himself sufficiently to shake hands professionally with his patient, but Toni he greeted warmly, as an old friend.

He had never dreamed of such a glorious happening as this visit. The dingy room was transfigured by Toni's presence therein; and his long, white, carefully-manicured hands were absolutely unsteady as he opened his little cabinet and selected one or two tiny but deadly-looking instruments from the shining rows within.

Toni, for her part, was occupied in thanking the Providence which had seen fit to equip her with a set of perfectly sound white teeth; and she felt an intense sympathy with the hapless Eva, whose nerves, undermined by her late experience, were already betraying her into signs of agitation.

"I won't hurt you, really," said Mr. Dowson, with a beaming smile, which he felt to be out of place, but could not restrain. "Please lean back a little more—so. Now open—just a leetle wider—thank you, that will do."

It was soon evident that the visit could not be prolonged. Although he had not the clue to his patient's intense nervousness, Mr. Dowson's professional instincts warned him that he must go warily: and while he would willingly have detained Mrs. Herrick, if by such means he could enjoy the felicity of Toni's companionship a little longer, his conscientious spirit forced him to cut the sitting short.

Another appointment was made for the following week; and after that there were others, to all of which Toni accompanied her quaking friend. After four or five visits, however, Toni was unlucky enough to contract a chill during an unusually prolonged motor-ride; and Mrs. Herrick was forced to go alone.

It was Leonard Dowson's intense consternation when told of Toni's illness which first opened Eva's eyes to the seriousness of his devotion. She had seen from the beginning that he admired the girl, that he listened attentively to her lightest word; but she had not realized that Mr. Dowson was really and irrevocably in love with Toni; and it is only fair to the young man to say that he was quite unconscious of his self-betrayal.

He had not been able to hide his anxiety on hearing of Toni's indisposition. With all the exaggeration of true love he immediately feared the worst; and even Eva's callous heart was touched by his incapacity to ask for news on the day of her second visit alone.

He had stammered out a broken question, exhibiting a rather absurd concern over an ordinary slight chill; and when Eva replied casually that she had heard Toni was going on very well, she noticed, with a half-contemptuous amusement, that he had to turn aside and wipe away the drops which glistened on his high forehead.

It was during that second visit that an idea came to Eva, bringing a malicious little smile to her lips in the intervals of Leonard's ministrations.

"You've known Toni—Mrs. Rose—a long time, I suppose?" She asked the question casually as she put on her hat before the glass. "You were friends before her marriage, weren't you?"

"Yes. I had the pleasure of knowing Mrs. Rose some years before that."

"Really? You knew her as a child?"

"She was just fifteen when I saw her first," said Leonard, his voice husky with the emotion called up by the reminiscence. "It was her birthday, I remember, and one of her cousins asked me to go home to tea with him. They were great people for birthdays, her relations."

"Were they?" Eva adjusted her veil carefully. "Friendly, sociable sort of people, I suppose. Was Mr. Rose there that night?"

"Mr. Rose?" For a moment Leonard, lost in dreams of the past, stared uncomprehendingly. Then he pulled himself together vigorously. "No, Mr. Rose was not there in those days. He—he came on the scene much later than that."

"Did he? Was he also a friend of Mrs. Rose's cousins?"

"Oh, no." Mr. Dowson became emphatic. "Nothing of that sort. Toni—Miss Gibbs she was then—met him in the course of business. As a matter of fact, she was his secretary. And then he fell in love with her; and the next thing was that they were married." His tone was dreary.

"Ah, well, I don't wonder he fell in love." Eva watched him closely through the mirror as she spoke. "I have no doubt Mrs. Rose had heaps of admirers at that time. Why, Mr. Dowson"—she spoke laughingly—"what were you about not to seize such a prize before an outsider sailed in and captured it?"

Leonard's pallor gave way to an unbecoming brick-red flush, and his voice shook as he replied:

"I ... I wasn't lucky, you see. I—I would have given my life for that girl, Mrs. Herrick, and she—she wouldn't have me at any price."

His tone of desperate sincerity told Eva all she wanted to know; and in a moment she switched the conversation back to safer ground.

"You needn't give your life for her, Mr. Dowson, but I'll tell you what you can do. You can lend me your Punch to take her. I promised to bring her a copy from Dent's, and he is sold out."

Mr. Dowson was genuinely delighted to follow the suggestion and insisted on depleting the table in his waiting-room of various periodicals which might relieve the tedium of a day in bed; and Eva took the bundle amiably, promising to deliver them in person to Toni on her way home.

She fulfilled her mission punctually; and when Owen, unaware of her presence in the house, came to see how his wife was getting on, he found her bed literally strewn with the papers which should have soothed the fears of the quaking patients in Mr. Dowson's gloomy waiting-room.

"Hallo, Toni." He turned to her smilingly, after greeting Eva. "I hope you've got plenty to read. I didn't know you hankered after the illustrated papers, or I'd have sent out for some. It's very good of Mrs. Herrick to bring you such an assortment."

"Ah, but these were sent by a friend of your wife's," smiled Eva sweetly. "I'm not the principal party in the transaction—I'm only the middleman."

"Really? Who has been so generous then?" asked Owen, taking up one of the papers at random as he spoke.

"Mr. Dowson, the dentist at Sutton," said Eva, turning her large Irish eyes on him pleasantly. "You know, of course, he is an old friend of Mrs. Rose's, and I must say he is a most gentle and satisfactory person in his work."

"A dentist? Dowson?" Owen's eyes roamed from Eva's face to Toni's, and something in the manner of both girls puzzled him. "I don't know him, do I, Toni? Is he really an old friend of yours? But you've never asked him here, have you?"

"He—he's not exactly an old friend," said Toni, annoyed to feel herself colouring. "I mean—oh, I've known him a long time in a way—he was a friend of the boys—my cousins, but that was all. And anyway he has not been here long."

"Oh." Owen was still vaguely perplexed by her manner. "Well, if he's a decent chap you must ask him over."

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't come." Toni spoke quickly. "He is not your sort, Owen. I mean—I don't think he would care to come. Do you, Mrs. Herrick?"

Thus appealed to, Eva gave her verdict with a show of hesitation.

"N-no, I hardly think he would." She turned to Owen. "I don't think I would ask him, if I were you, Mr. Rose. I expect it would make him feel a little—well, awkward."

"But——" Owen did not know what to make of it. "You see, if he is sufficiently intimate with my wife to send her all these papers and things, it looks rather odd if I take no notice of him, doesn't it? I really think we must ask him over when Toni is herself again, eh, Toni?"

"I wouldn't, Mr. Rose." Eva threw a deep earnestness into her melodious Irish voice. "Really—it's not my business, of course, but if I were you I'd not bother about the matter."

She saw the look of uneasiness in Owen's eyes, and knew she had said enough.

"Is it really five o'clock!" She jumped up in pretended dismay. "And I promised Jim faithfully I'd be back by half-past four. He gets fidgety when I'm out of his sight for long—thinks I'm getting into mischief, I suppose."

She laughed rather hardly, and Owen felt an inner repulsion to the woman who could thus misconstrue her husband's consideration. He watched her bid Toni an effusive farewell and then escorted her downstairs, and stood talking to her for a few moments at the hall door.

Somehow he had never liked her so little as on this afternoon; and although he admitted that she was a pretty woman in her way, he told himself that her face was curiously unattractive.

She looked better now than on her first arrival in the neighbourhood, less haggard, a little plumper, but as he compared her dulled and faded beauty with Toni's youthful bloom he wondered, not for the first time, if her companionship were altogether innocuous.

He was still puzzling over the question when he re-entered Toni's room; and his first words showed her what was in his mind.

"Rather bad taste—that allusion to her husband's anxiety. Don't you think so, Toni? After all, he might well be uneasy about a woman who has once got into such serious mischief as she has done."

"Why? It's not likely to happen again." Toni, poring over Punch, spoke shortly.

"No, of course not." Owen hesitated, but as Toni evinced no signs of wishing to continue the conversation he went out of the room hurriedly, leaving his wife alone with the evidences of Mr. Dowson's good-will.

The next time Eva visited Toni she said jocularly:

"Well, I do think you're mean, Toni!" They had recently advanced to this stage of intimacy. "Fancy not telling me that Mr. Dowson had once proposed to you."

Toni, taken aback, blushed vividly.

"He didn't—at least—not exactly. I mean——"

"Oh, I know what you mean!" Eva laughed. "Of course you couldn't have accepted him—he's a nice fellow in his way, but impossible as a husband." At times Squire Payton's daughter was quite blatantly aristocratic. "But you might have told me, all the same."

"Why? It doesn't matter—now."

"Not to you, dear." Eva jeered lightly. "But the poor fellow is quite upset at meeting you again. He told me to-day he would never marry, and when I asked him why he said surely I could guess."

"Very impertinent of him," said Toni sharply; and Eva smiled inwardly.

"Oh, you mustn't blame him, Toni. I'm afraid it was my fault. We Irish are so sympathetic, you know—people always tell us their secrets. And anyhow there is nothing to be ashamed of. If he likes to go adoring you privately, you needn't be angry."

She said no more just then, for Toni's manner displayed her displeasure; but Eva smiled again when she was alone; and her warped and twisted mind seized eagerly on the idea of the very amusing situation which a little careful engineering might bring to pass.

Like all true intriguers, Eva kept her thoughts to herself; and Toni had not the faintest idea of the plans which her so-called friend turned about in her mind as the autumn days glided swiftly by under the golden and blue skies of a perfect season.