He was opening his letters, a process which made breakfast quite a nervous time for her, because one small reverse--no more than an unflattering review--upset him so and sometimes ruined his whole morning's work, which meant he would be silent and depressed at lunch-time.

To-day, however, having opened first the only letter in an unknown hand as promising the most adventure, he said with real exhilaration:

"Ah, that's encouraging. That bucks one up!"

"What, good news, Hugh dear?" she inquired, delighted.

"Yes, the Kit Kat Club has asked me as its guest of honour."

Inwardly she was a little disappointed; she had hoped it would be some money.

"How excellent!" she said, good wife; and then, "What _is_ the Kit Kat Club?"

"Why, it's a well-known literary club," he answered, slightly hurt.

"They meet"--he read the card again--"at Lewisham."

"Capital!" she said: not because she had ever heard of Lewisham as a great literary centre, but because he was so terrifically pleased.

"And when is it to be?"

"Very short notice," he said, looking once more at the invitation.

"This very Tuesday, January 29th. Lucky we never dine out!"

"But Hugh," she began, oh so disappointed, and then stopped. She had told every one--well, Mrs. Boyd--that she was bringing Hugh this time....

He understood. "Why, it's the lecture or debate," he said. "I _am_ sorry." There clearly was no question which should go. Then, much more gently, remembering her keenness: "Never mind, little girl: we'll find another nice debate. Let's see the list and we will pick one now."

Treats, of course, are seldom a success the second time. Helena, now, did not dash for the list. In fact Hubert, looking up, saw that great tears were rolling down her cheeks.

She could have killed herself for shame. It only proved how difficult it was to be grown up, if you began too late!

And Hubert was not even touched by it. The silly action had no sanction in success.

He got up angrily, without a word, but making it clear that he had thought her selfish. He sat on the armchair and took up the _Spectator_. This announced that breakfast was now over.

Helena felt that his rebuke was thoroughly deserved. What must he think of her, when they took place each week and he had offered to come to another? Of course he didn't know about that rude pig, Mrs. Boyd!

"Hugh dear," she said, also getting up, "I am so sorry; I feel such a beast. It's only I was disappointed. Of course my meeting's simply nothing. I ought to have been glad about the Kit Kats, and I am."

Some men, after that, would possibly have changed their minds and taken her to her dear meeting; but to Hubert nothing came before success.

"That's a dear unselfish little wife," he answered soothingly and gave her a forgiving kiss. The episode was closed.

"You're sure it is the twenty-ninth of this month?" she therefore angered him by asking. Helena could not believe in Fate being so brutal.

"Well, there's the card," he answered brusquely.

She took it up, filled with an abrupt, unchristian desire to tear it into fragments. It had a silly black cat in silhouette upon it and she _had_ thought he would come at last....

"Why Klub with a K?" she did allow herself to ask.

"Just a literary conceit, I suppose," he answered, trying to control his voice; and that silenced her, because she had no theories as to what a literary conceit might be.

But Hubert could not quite allow the matter to rest there. He felt that she was thinking he had acted selfishly and he must prove to her that everything would be all right. What odd disguises can Remorse a.s.sume!

"You can get Alison to take you," he threw out. "He's sure to be going."

"Oh no," answered Helena. "I told him you were coming. He'll be booked. No, I shan't go at all."

Face Mrs. Boyd exultant? No, not she. Afterwards, if needed, some excuse. But anyhow not that! She had said she was bringing Hubert.

"That's silly, my dear." He did not often call her that. "Alison will take you gladly, I know, or if not you can go alone. You often have before."

"Yes," she retorted, "but not when I've told every one that you were taking me. I have a little pride."

He shut his paper and got up. He never could bear scenes.

"Just as you like," he said, trying to speak evenly. "It's your concern. I was only thinking of your comfort. Whatever you do won't hurt _me_."

A man can escape everything except himself; and so it chanced that Hubert Brett felt a brute twice, repented twice, about one causerie.

He felt it most acutely in his little room.

He very nearly went back to her now, a second time, and said so; but then he remembered what a nasty scene it had been, about nothing. Of course in the old anti-marriage days it had been his pet theory that every wedded pair inevitably--by force of Nature, which meant every one to dwell apart--ended in continued rows; but it had seemed so quite impossible with Helena. Perhaps it always did!...

So sweet and pliable and ignorant of life she had been--yes, this was a new Helena and more like the old Ruth!

No, he would not go back.

He would be hanged if he encouraged her.

CHAPTER IX

CINDERELLA

Helena tried not to look as though she minded when Hubert came down, glorious in evening dress at six o'clock.

"It _is_ an early start," she said cheerfully.

"Yes," he replied; "but that means I shall be home all the earlier.

The dinner begins at seven and I shan't make a long speech--trust me--so you can expect me back not later than half past ten or eleven at the very latest."

He just restrained himself from saying once more that he thought her stupid not to go across to the Inst.i.tute instead of moping all alone till then. Even so his farewell was a little cold for, though he kept silence, he could not help feeling she had been selfish over the whole business. Her air of martyrdom had rubbed some gilt off the occasion's splendour.