'Oh, yes! Quite sure. Of course I knew all along. But you must keep it up more religiously than ever, because the business is going to be so much--so very much--bigger. Now for my conditions.' 'Any conditions--any!' 'You will insert this advertisement for six days, beginning to-morrow, in the _Times_.' He read it aloud. He read it without the least change of countenance, so wooden was his face, so hard his heart. 'On Wednesday, April 21, 1887, at St. Leonard's, Worthing, Alexander Feilding, of the Grove Studio, Marlborough Road, to Zoe, only daughter of the late Peter Evelyn, formerly of Kensington Palace Gardens.' 'I believe,' he said, folding the paper, 'that was the date. It was three years ago, wasn't it? I say, Zoe, won't it be awkward having to explain things--long interval, you know--engagement as companion--wrong name?' 'I have thought of that. But it would be more awkward pretending that we were married to-day and being found out. No. There are not half-a-dozen people who will ever know that I was Armorel's companion. Then, a circumstance, which there is no need ever to explain, forbade the announcement of our marriage--hint at a near relation's will--I was compelled to assume another name. Cruel necessity!' 'You are a mighty clever woman, Zoe.' 'I am. If you are wise, now, you will assume a joyful air. You will go about rejoicing that the bar to this public announcement has been at length removed. Family reasons--you will say--no fault of yours or of mine. It is your business, of course, how you will look--but I recommend this line. Be the exultant bridegroom, not the downcast husband. Will you walk so?'--she assumed a buoyant dancing step with a smiling face--'or so?' she hung a dejected head and crawled sadly. 'By gad, it's wonderful!' he cried, looking at her with astonishment. And, indeed, who would recognise the quiet, sleepy, indolent woman of yesterday in the quick, restless, and alert woman of to-day? 'Henceforth I must work, Alec. I cannot sit down and go to sleep any longer. That time has gone. I think I have murdered sleep.' 'Work away, my girl. Nobody wants to prevent you. Are there any other conditions?' 'You will sell your riding-horses and buy a Victoria. Your wife must have something to drive about in. And you will lead, in many respects, an altered life. I must have, for the complete working out of my plans, an ideal domestic life. Turtle-doves we must be for affection, and angels incarnate for propriety. The highest Art in the home is the highest standard of manners that can be set up.' 'Very good. Any more conditions?'