And yet, and yet, it could not be true. It would be absurd to pretend that their marriage had been one of ardent or romantic affection; neither of them had made any pretence of such to the other. He was tired of celibacy, he wanted somebody to be the mistress of his home, possibly to give him an heir. She, on her side, was quite naturally attracted by his wealth, by the position he could give her. But because a woman is swayed in her choice by worldly advantages, it does not follow that she is a person of dishonourable impulses. After a good deal of rather perturbing reflection, he came to the conclusion with regard to this letter that, while he would not attach undue importance to it, he would not definitely ignore it. And certainly he would not follow what a few months ago would have seemed a natural impulse, go to her and show her the letter, and say in his blunt, straightforward way: “You see what it suggests. Is it a lie or a truth?” He happened at this time to be very busy on one of those big financial schemes which had made his house so famous, and although at no particular moment was the incident entirely removed from his mind, it was greatly overshadowed by the almost incessant calls upon his time and thoughts in connection with this huge foreign loan. He thought of it, as it were, only to put it aside to a more convenient season. A trifling incident brought it back to his recollection in full force. They were attending a big function at a certain ducal house to which all the _élite_ of London had been invited. At such an important gathering every woman would naturally wish to appear her best, to wear her smartest clothes, to don her most valuable jewellery. Mrs. Morrice was as proud of her appearance as most women, she would certainly not wish to be outshone by her neighbours. For some days past the two women had talked of this function, had discussed who was likely to be invited and as likely excluded, and settled what they were going to wear. Rosabelle had ordered a new frock for the occasion and was much surprised that her aunt had not done the same, but was going in one that had already done her good service. This entertainment was fixed to take place a few days after she had overheard that suspicious conversation in the boudoir. The girl thought she understood now the reason of her aunt’s economy, not only on this particular occasion but for a long time past. The money which would have gone to her dressmaker in the ordinary course had been diverted in the direction of Archie Brookes, to pay his pressing debts, to enable him to avert disgrace for the time being. Rosabelle thought it rather a pity her aunt should not have made some special effort for such a unique affair; she thought she owed it to her husband to maintain her position in a proper manner. Still, if she was not going to assume any striking raiment, she would certainly put on the most magnificent of her jewels, and these, no doubt, would carry her through.