"No, of course not." Eva spoke a trifle vaguely. "But you couldn't go, Toni. It would be impossible. Why, your husband would think you were mad."

"Would he? Perhaps I am." Toni's smile was a little melancholy.

"Sometimes I think this is all a dream--that I'm not Owen's wife at all--that Greenriver and the gardens and everything else are merely imagination. I can't believe it's true. If it is, how is it that everything has gone so terribly, horribly wrong?"

She paused, gazing before her with puzzled eyes.

"I thought once that if I married Owen I should be the happiest girl in the world. But I'm not. I'm the most miserable. I--sometimes I wish--oh, I don't know what I wish!"

"Come, Toni"--Eva rose as though to change the subject--"you mustn't be so despondent. Let me ring the bell--it's nearly five, and I'm sure you want a cup of tea."

"Not yet, Eva." In Toni's voice was a new note, a note of decision, which Eva's ear was quick to detect. "When you say I should go away with another man, who had you in your mind?"

A moment Eva waited. Then:

"I meant the man who has the misfortune to adore you, Toni, the man who gave up everything, his practice, his prospects, London, everything, for your sake. You know the man I mean. You know as well as I do that Leonard Dowson adores the very ground you walk on."

"Leonard Dowson!" Toni smiled drearily. "Think of leaving _Owen_ for Leonard Dowson!"

"Oh, I know he's not in the same cla.s.s," said Eva, with ostentatious frankness, "and I don't for a moment suppose he would make you happy.

I'm afraid I wasn't thinking much of you, dear, when I mentioned his name. Somehow I forgot that you have as much right to happiness as anyone."

"_My_ happiness doesn't matter," said Toni for the second time. "But I think you are wrong, Eva. Mr. Dowson never thinks of me--now."

"Doesn't he?" Eva permitted herself to smile. "My dear child, he's just crazy about you. He told me all about it one day when you weren't there--how he'd loved you for years and years and was heart-broken when you refused him. He only came down here to be near you, and if you would only smile on him a little he would do anything in the world for you."

"He wouldn't give up his work for me, Eva."

"Ah, you haven't heard of his good luck." Eva had carefully refrained from the announcement until the moment was ripe. "He has just come into some money--nearly two hundred a year; and he can chuck dentistry to-morrow, if he likes."

"Even then, he wouldn't want a scandal----"

"Oh, Toni, I could shake you," said Eva, sitting down with a thump on the sofa near her. "Because some people have not got red blood in their veins, you think no one has. I tell you Leonard Dowson would throw up everything to-morrow--brave any amount of scandal, if only you would go with him. He could take you abroad somewhere, America perhaps; and then, when your husband had got his divorce, you could marry Leonard and settle down as nicely as possible. Then Owen would be free to do as he chose with his life, and this unhappy state of things would be forgotten."

"Marry him? Marry Leonard Dowson?" Even yet Toni could not a.s.similate the idea.

"Well, why not? He is madly in love with you, Toni. He would give up everything in the world for you, and I honestly think that things are impossible as they are. But of course you know better than I do, and if you feel you must stay with your husband----"

"No--no." Toni's breath came in short gasps, as though she had been running. "I can't stay with Owen. I make him miserable, he's ashamed of me--I'm no good to him, only a bore--a useless creature who's tied to him ... if I were gone he would be really better off--and as you say, he could marry again----"

"I don't suppose he would do that," said Eva gently. "You know he _is_ very fond of you, Toni--I got even Jim to acknowledge that the other night"--she watched Toni wince at the "even"--"and it's only that you--well, you're not quite his sort, somehow."

Her words seemed to rouse Toni to anger.

"You have said that already," she said sharply. "You needn't repeat it."

"I'm sorry, Toni." Eva's big eyes looked imploringly into hers. "I'm afraid I've said far too much to-day. After all, I have no earthly right to interfere, and you are quite justified in resenting my interference."

Toni's sudden anger died away.

"Oh, you were quite right," she said, sighing as she spoke.

"I'm glad you said what you did--and I can't help knowing you are right.

Only"--she shivered, and her face looked white and pinched--"somehow until I heard you saying it I hoped I myself was making a mistake."

"But--you'll not do anything rash?" Eva was vaguely uneasy at the result of her plot.

"Oh, no, I'll do nothing rash," said Toni, with a queer smile; and Eva's uneasiness deepened.

Luckily for her their conversation was cut short at that moment by the entrance of Herrick, accompanied by Olga, and followed by the maid bearing the tea-tray.

When the lamp had been lighted and the maid had withdrawn, Herrick shot a glance at the face of his wife's visitor; and he saw at once that something was wrong.

He did not betray his knowledge by the slightest sign; but talked to the two girls in his usual kindly, whimsical fashion while Eva dispensed tea.

"All the boats are really put away for the winter now," he said presently. "I think yours--and ours--have been the last, Mrs. Rose. We have had such wonderfully mild weather; but I'm afraid we shan't get any more boating this season."

"Shan't we?" Toni sighed faintly. "I'm sorry--I have enjoyed the river so much."

"Yes. We've had a glorious summer. But after all the winter will soon pa.s.s and we'll be getting the boats out again."

"I hope we shan't be here when it's time to get the boats out," said Eva crisply. "A winter here would just about finish me off."

"Oh, it's not bad," Herrick rejoined. "Sometimes it is quite pleasant all the year round--though we get a fog now and again, of course."

"I don't propose remaining to sample the fogs," said Eva quietly. "Of course you will do as you choose, but seeing I've never been properly warm for months--we don't have nice fires in prison, you know--I think you owe it to me to take me somewhere sunny this winter."

Herrick's face clouded, as it always did at any reference to Eva's prison life; and Toni felt desperately uncomfortable.

She put down her cup and rose.

"I must really be going home, Eva. I didn't mean to stay to tea."

"Must you go? I'm sorry. I hoped you'd stay to dinner and enliven us a little. Jim and I don't have very jovial evenings, do we, Jim? Sometimes I think I might as well be back in my cell."

"Eva--don't." Herrick spoke quietly, and his wife laughed.

"My dear Jim, why be so squeamish? If Mrs. Rose doesn't mind a.s.sociating with jail-birds, I don't see why you should. I'm thinking of writing a book on my experiences in prison, Toni. Do you think Mr. Rose would collaborate with me--lick my raw stuff into shape, so to speak?"

Before Toni could reply, Herrick interrupted.

"If you are going, Mrs. Rose, I'll take you across the river in the old punt, and see you home along the towing-path. It is the shortest way, but it's lonely at night."

"Thank you, Mr. Herrick. May Olga come, too?"

"Of course. She would be very much hurt if she were left behind."

"How silly you are over that great dog of yours, Jim." Mrs. Herrick included even dogs in her universal hatred nowadays. "I declare I wish someone would poison the beast."