“And they think they’re acting,” he muttered, jerking his head towards the box. “Well, well—it’s all in the day’s work. . . .” He fell to pulling his moustache. Suddenly he burst out laughing. “What a game Life is!” he cried. “I try to protect my own skin, and they give me the V.C.; I deliberately scrap my reputation to do a girl a good turn, and—and it costs me a jolly good friend and seven quid.” He lighted a cigarette and picked up his coat. “I wonder how Madge has got on,” he continued musingly. “And perhaps it’ld be as well if I had a look at the play. I can’t reappear till it’s over, and she might ask what it’s about.” He hung up his coat, extinguished his cigarette and entered the box. * * * * * The wedding of David Herrick and Eleanor Cloke took place early in May and was a brilliant success. The bride looked extraordinarily beautiful, and if the dignity of her gait was slightly affected, that was a fault upon the right side. At the reception the bridegroom, who had eaten no lunch, ate nothing at all. I imagine he had decided that the occasion was one upon which no risks should be run. Captain and Mrs. Willoughby were among the guests. The tongues which had recently wagged fairly spouted the ‘Amens,’ and afterwards slobbered over the ‘enchanting atmosphere of a true love-match.’ Subduing a feeling of nausea, Madge and Crispin agreed enthusiastically. The relations, however, between the Herricks and Willoughbys seemed to leave something to be desired. The old familiar affection seemed to have been superseded by a boisterous cordiality which was rather too hearty to be true. These conditions prevailed until the month of July. It was then for the first time that Mr. and Mrs. Herrick spent twenty-four hours apart. And that was against their will—they were really absurdly in love. But Eleanor had a cold, and Tattersall’s Sale Ring may be a draughty place. . . . For all that, Madge Willoughby was there, and she and David had an engaging talk—so engaging, in fact, that the mare which he had come to Newmarket to buy became the property of another at less than half the figure to which Herrick was prepared to go. That same July morning Mrs. Herrick received a note. _Nell dear,_ _I gave you back your letter because you asked for it, but to part with it went against the grain rather more than did anything else I had to do that night. You see, next to Madge, I love you rather better than anyone else, and I was so pleased to know that, next to David, you felt the same about me. Besides, to be strictly truthful, it was the only ‘application’ I’d ever had. . . . Still, perhaps it’s as well._ _One or two confessions you’ll value._