He stepped back from her a little, however, so that she could see his face without inconvenience, and she noticed that he looked thin, that he had lost his bright color, and that the steady, set expression of his face made him look much older than when she had left the Grange. “I don’t understand you! Please let me know clearly what cause of complaint you have against me that makes you behave in such a strange manner to me,” said Annie haughtily. But she was not quite at ease; this character of culprit was new to her, and it did not sit so well upon her as the equally unaccustomed character of judge seemed to sit upon her husband. “Who was that man I met outside your door just now?” “Mr. Aubrey Cooke, a man who was acting at the Regency Theater when I was there. You must have heard me speak of him as one of my oldest friends upon the stage.” “One of your oldest friends? That is what he called himself. But the servant told me he was a relative of yours, who came to see you nearly every day.” “I am not answerable for the creations of a housemaid’s fancy. Certainly neither Mr. Cooke nor I ever told her he was a relative of mine.” “But he comes to see you nearly every day?” “Not so often as that; but he comes very frequently. Why should he not? I am at liberty to choose my own friends, and he is one of the best I have.” “Then why did you not introduce him to me just now when you came out of your room and found us both there?” “I was too much taken by surprise----” “And terror--that is what your face showed.” “I thought you had had some quarrel, you looked so angry; I did not know what to think; and the next minute Mr. Cooke was gone.” “It was the first time he had heard you were married, was it not?” Annie hesitated for one moment; then she said: “He always knew me as Miss Langton, like the rest of my theatrical friends. I don’t know whether he had heard I was married----” “That is a lie, Annie!” he burst out, with a suddenness which made her start. “You silly woman, why don’t you tell me the truth? For the truth I will have; and, if I have to get it from anybody but you, it will be the worse for you and for him too.” Annie’s gaze sunk under the fierceness which blazed in his eyes and recalled to her mind his old savagery at the Grange. He lowered his voice again as he saw her shrink. “Annie, don’t let me fancy you have anything to tell me worse than I have thought,” said he, with a tremor in his voice. “You need not be afraid of me; I will listen calmly to whatever you have to say. I haven’t always been a good husband to you, and I feel it quite as much as you do. But I have been fond of you, and good to you lately, and you might trust me a little, if only for the sake of that. Now tell me! You do like this Mr. Cooke, don’t you?” “Yes, of course I like him, or I should not let him come and see me.” “And he likes you?” “If he did not, he would not take the trouble to come.”