"What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?" Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. "Serves you right if I'd cracked your skull." Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. "What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?" he answered fiercely. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. "You silly fool," he said. "I know nothing about your wife. The young lady I was with is not married at all. Why don't you make sure before you rush out like that upon a stranger?" "You were with my wife," Hill repeated sullenly. "I suppose you're like the rest of them. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she's my wife, and I've got the certificate in my pocket." "I don't know who you are," Ennison said quietly, "but you are a thundering liar." Hill staggered to his feet and drew a folded paper from his pocket. "Marriage certificates don't tell lies, at any rate," he said. "Just look that through, will you." Ennison took the document, tore it half in two without looking at it, and flung it back in Hill's face. Then he turned on his heel and walked off. _Chapter XVII_ THE CHANGE IN "ALCIDE" "By-the-bye," his neighbour asked him languidly, "who is our hostess?" "Usually known, I believe, as Lady Ferringhall," Ennison answered, "unless I have mixed up my engagement list and come to the wrong house." "How dull you are," the lady remarked. "Of course I mean, who was she?" "I believe that her name was Pellissier," Ennison answered. "Pellissier," she repeated thoughtfully. "There were some Hampshire Pellissiers." "She is one of them," Ennison said. "Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up." "In Paris, I think," Ennison answered. "Only married a few months ago and lived out at Hampstead." "Heavens!" the lady exclaimed. "I heard they came from somewhere outrageous." "Hampstead didn't suit Lady Ferringhall," Ennison remarked. "They have just taken this house from Lady Cellender." "And what are you doing here?" the lady asked. "Politics!" Ennison answered grimly. "And you?" "Same thing. Besides, my husband has shares in Sir John's company. Do you know, I am beginning to believe that we only exist nowadays by the tolerance of these millionaire tradesmen. Our land brings us in nothing. We have to get them to let us in for the profits of their business, and in return we ask them to--dinner. By-the-bye, have you seen this new woman at the 'Empire'? What is it they call her--'Alcide?'" "Yes, I have seen her," Ennison answered. "Every one raves about her," Lady Angela continued. "For my part I can see no difference in any of these French girls who come over here with their demure manner and atrocious songs." "'Alcide's' songs are not atrocious," Ennison remarked. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders.