'You'll think me very impertinent, Lady Selsey. But I can't help it.

I'll come straight to the point.'

'Do, please.'

'Mrs Reeve has had a terrible quarrel with her husband. She would have left him this morning, but that I persuaded her to wait. I came to tell you because I felt sure you would be sorry. It's about you, Lady Selsey.'

'About me!'

'Yes. She saw you driving with her husband, and he didn't mention it.

She's jealous of you. Of course he explained it, but she doesn't believe him. I thought he probably would not say anything about it to you. I know, of course, it's a sort of misunderstanding. But I thought perhaps you could do something about it to make it all right.'

'I _am_ grieved,' said Eugenia, clasping her hands. 'You know Cecil was an old friend of mine, don't you? I met him again after many months, and in a foolish impulse we went for a drive. That is all, of course. Miss Yeo, I'm sure you're her true friend. This quarrel must be made up. What can I do? What do you advise?'

'Even if this particular quarrel is patched up, she would always be suspicious and jealous of you. It makes her miserable.'

'Poor darling, how ridiculous! I'm sure I'd be only too pleased never to see the silly boy again.'

'I quite understand all that, but, you see, she's very proud. That sort of rupture--all being connected as you are--would be noticeable to other people, and she's very sensitive--she couldn't stand it.'

Eugenia thought a moment.

'Suppose we went away somewhere for a year? That would give her time to forget this nonsense. My husband has been trying to persuade me to go to the Ionian Islands with him--yachting. He'll be only too pleased if I say I will. I'm a wretched sailor, but if it would do any good--'

'It would be perfect. It would all come right.'

'Then I'll do it. I had asked them to dinner for next week. I haven't had an answer yet. I'll telegraph, putting them off, and explaining why.'

'That would be splendid,' said Anne.

'Then it's settled,' answered Eugenia briefly.

Anne got up.

'Of course it must be understood that you know nothing about it--I mean about the quarrel,' she said.

'Of course not. Not a soul, not my husband, nor Cecil, nor his wife shall ever know a word about your visit, Miss Yeo.'

'That is very kind of you, Lady Selsey. I--well, you know I'm devoted to Hyacinth. At first I was almost selfishly glad about this. I could have got her back. We could have gone away together. But I can't see her miserable. She has such a mania for Cecil Reeve! Isn't it extraordinary?'

'Most extraordinary,' replied Eugenia emphatically.

'And since she's got him, she may as well be happy with him,' Anne added.

'Of course. And she will. This misunderstanding won't do any harm in the long run,' said Eugenia. 'If he had any real fear of losing her, it would do him a great deal of good. He's devoted to her really, more than either of them knows.'

'I daresay,' said Anne dryly. 'It's sure to be fixed up soon, and then I'm going away too.'

'You are! Why, Miss Yeo?'

'Oh, I don't know. I feel I'm not in the picture. I hate the sight of turtle-doves. If I've been able to do her a good turn in this little trouble, it will be a great consolation where I'm going.'

'I'm afraid you're not happy, Miss Yeo?' said Eugenia impulsively.

'I don't know that I am, particularly. But does it matter? We can't all be happy.'

'I'm sorry. I want everyone to be happy.'

'I suppose it's always a mistake to make an idol of anyone,' said Anne.

'I'm afraid Hyacinth thinks that is what her husband has done about you.'

'_That_ would indeed be inexcusable!'

'She thought that the hopelessness of it had made him idealise you, and even that worried her; but when she saw you together, and it seemed--well, concrete treachery--she was furious.'

'It will bring them nearer than they have ever been before,' a.s.sured Eugenia.

'Good-bye,' said Anne. 'I'll write to you--once--and tell you what has happened.'

'Do, and be quick; I shall be busy buying yachting dresses. By the way, you might take the telegram.'

Anne waited while she wrote--

'Frightfully sorry, dinner next week unavoidably postponed as unexpectedly leaving town for season. Writing. Eugenia Selsey.'

'I will write to her when I've arranged it with my husband.'

Anne took the telegram.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

'That Woman'

By the end of their drive Eugenia had quite come to the conclusion that Cecil was as foolish as ever, and that she would not be alone with him again. At first it had amused her to see him once more, but when she saw the infatuation revive, she was bored and sorry--and particularly sorry she had given him the opportunity of expressing it. She had told him, definitely, that she would not see him again except with Hyacinth. He had declared it was merely the excitement of having met her, and implored forgiveness, undertaking in future to regard her as a friend merely.

This reconciliation--for they had had quite a quarrel in the cab coming back--and the solemn compact and promise on Cecil's part to ignore the old terms, had led to the invitation that Hyacinth regarded as an insult added to injury.

Cecil's conscience, then, as he sat by the fire that night p.r.i.c.ked him not at all, for had he not made the best of resolutions? Indeed, privately, he rather plumed himself on his honourable conduct, forgetting perhaps that it was inspired more by Eugenia's att.i.tude than by his own inclination.

Probably he hardly realised that, had Eugenia used her influence differently, there was hardly anything he would not have done. To him facts were everything--and he believed he had meant no harm.

He was still, he knew, to a great extent under the charm of his old friend. Still, that did not seem to have anything to do with his love for Hyacinth. He did not believe her threat of leaving him, but the mere picture of such a thing gave him great pain. He thought that if he had not been exactly in love with her when they married he was now; and could not at all imagine himself living without her. What, then, did he really want? He did not formulate it.

_Au fond_, he was more flattered than annoyed at the position Hyacinth took up. He was amused, positively impressed, at her spirit. Had she not been so excessively pretty, it would have made him more angry and more anxious to rebel at the idea of her dictation. Perhaps his happiness with Hyacinth had gone almost too smoothly. He had become quite spoilt by her exquisite responsiveness, too much accustomed to the delightful homage of her being so much in love with him, to her charm in every way.