STREFFORD was leaving for England.

　　Once assured that Susy had taken the first step toward freeingherself, he frankly regarded her as his affianced wife, andcould see no reason for further mystery. She understood hisimpatience to have their plans settled; it would protect himfrom the formidable menace of the marriageable, and causepeople, as he said, to stop meddling. Now that the novelty ofhis situation was wearing off, his natural indolence reasserteditself, and there was nothing he dreaded more than having to beon his guard against the innumerable plans that his well-wisherswere perpetually making for him. Sometimes Susy fancied he wasmarrying her because to do so was to follow the line of leastresistance.

　　"To marry me is the easiest way of not marrying all the others,"she laughed, as he stood before her one day in a quiet alley ofthe Bois de Boulogne, insisting on the settlement of variouspreliminaries. "I believe I'm only a protection to you."An odd gleam passed behind his eyes, and she instantly guessedthat he was thinking: "And what else am I to you?"She changed colour, and he rejoined, laughing also: "Well,you're that at any rate, thank the Lord!"She pondered, and then questioned: "But in the interval-howare you going to defend yourself for another year?""Ah, you've got to see to that; you've got to take a littlehouse in London. You've got to look after me, you know."It was on the tip of her tongue to flash back: "Oh, if that'sall you care--!" But caring was exactly the factor she wanted,as much as possible, to keep out of their talk and theirthoughts. She could not ask him how much he cared withoutlaying herself open to the same question; and that way terrorlay. As a matter of fact, though Strefford was not an ardentwooer--perhaps from tact, perhaps from temperament, perhapsmerely from the long habit of belittling and disintegratingevery sentiment and every conviction--yet she knew he did carefor her as much as he was capable of caring for anyone. If theelement of habit entered largely into the feeling--if he likedher, above all, because he was used to her, knew her views, herindulgences, her allowances, knew he was never likely to bebored, and almost certain to be amused, by her; why, suchingredients though not of the fieriest, were perhaps those mostlikely to keep his feeling for her at a pleasant temperature.

　　She had had a taste of the tropics, and wanted more equableweather; but the idea of having to fan his flame gently for ayear was unspeakably depressing to her. Yet all this wasprecisely what she could not say. The long period of probation,during which, as she knew, she would have to amuse him, to guardhim, to hold him, and to keep off the other women, was anecessary part of their situation. She was sure that, as littleBreckenridge would have said, she could "pull it off"; but shedid not want to think about it. What she would have preferredwould have been to go away--no matter where and not seeStrefford again till they were married. But she dared not tellhim that either.

　　"A little house in London--?" She wondered.

　　"Well, I suppose you've got to have some sort of a roof overyour head.""I suppose so."He sat down beside her. "If you like me well enough to live atAltringham some day, won't you, in the meantime, let me provideyou with a smaller and more convenient establishment?"Still she hesitated. The alternative, she knew, would be tolive on Ursula Gillow, Violet Melrose, or some other of her richfriends, any one of whom would be ready to lavish the largesthospitality on the prospective Lady Altringham. Such anarrangement, in the long run, would be no less humiliating toher pride, no less destructive to her independence, thanAltringham's little establishment. But she temporized. "Ishall go over to London in December, and stay for a while withvarious people--then we can look about.""All right; as you like." He obviously considered herhesitation ridiculous, but was too full of satisfaction at herhaving started divorce proceedings to be chilled by her reply.

　　"And now, look here, my dear; couldn't I give you some sort of aring?""A ring?" She flushed at the suggestion. "What's the use,Streff, dear? With all those jewels locked away in London--""Oh, I daresay you'll think them old-fashioned. And, hang it,why shouldn't I give you something new, I ran across Ellie andBockheimer yesterday, in the rue de la Paix, picking outsapphires. Do you like sapphires, or emeralds? Or just adiamond? I've seen a thumping one .... I'd like you to haveit."Ellie and Bockheimer! How she hated the conjunction of thenames! Their case always seemed to her like a caricature of herown, and she felt an unreasoning resentment against Ellie forhaving selected the same season for her unmating and re-mating.

　　"I wish you wouldn't speak of them, Streff ... as if they werelike us! I can hardly bear to sit in the same room with EllieVanderlyn.""Hullo? What's wrong? You mean because of her giving upClarissa?""Not that only .... You don't know .... I can't tell you ...."She shivered at the memory, and rose restlessly from the benchwhere they had been sitting.

　　Strefford gave his careless shrug. "Well, my dear, you canhardly expect me to agree, for after all it was to Ellie I owedthe luck of being so long alone with you in Venice. If she andAlgie hadn't prolonged their honeymoon at the villa--"He stopped abruptly, and looked at Susy. She was conscious thatevery drop of blood had left her face. She felt it ebbing awayfrom her heart, flowing out of her as if from all her severedarteries, till it seemed as though nothing were left of life inher but one point of irreducible pain.

　　"Ellie--at your villa? What do you mean? Was it Ellie andBockheimer who--?"Strefford still stared. "You mean to say you didn't know?""Who came after Nick and me...?" she insisted.

　　"Why, do you suppose I'd have turned you out otherwise? Thatbeastly Bockheimer simply smothered me with gold. Ah, well,there's one good thing: I shall never have to let the villaagain! I rather like the little place myself, and I daresayonce in a while we might go there for a day or two .... Susy,what's the matter?" he exclaimed.

　　She returned his stare, but without seeing him. Everything swamand danced before her eyes.

　　"Then she was there while I was posting all those letters forher--?""Letters--what letters? What makes you look so frightfullyupset?"She pursued her thought as if he had not spoken. "She and AlgieBockheimer arrived there the very day that Nick and I left?""I suppose so. I thought she'd told you. Ellie always tellseverybody everything.""She would have told me, I daresay--but I wouldn't let her.""Well, my dear, that was hardly my fault, was it? Though Ireally don't see--"But Susy, still blind to everything but the dance of dizzysparks before her eyes, pressed on as if she had not heard him.

　　"It was their motor, then, that took us to Milan! It was AlgieBockheimer's motor!" She did not know why, but this seemed toher the most humiliating incident in the whole hateful business.

　　She remembered Nick's reluctance to use the motor-sheremembered his look when she had boasted of her "managing." Thenausea mounted to her throat.

　　Strefford burst out laughing. "I say--you borrowed their motor?

　　And you didn't know whose it was?""How could I know? I persuaded the chauffeur ... for a littletip .... It was to save our railway fares to Milan ... extraluggage costs so frightfully in Italy ....""Good old Susy! Well done! I can see you doing it--""Oh, how horrible--how horrible!" she groaned.

　　"Horrible? What's horrible?""Why, your not seeing ... not feeling ..." she beganimpetuously; and ............