"Why should we forbid you? You are an artist, and you know more about frocks and hats than we do, after years of laborious study," said Lady Susan, and then, with her arm through Vera's as they went slowly up the broad staircase, with steps so shallow that people accustomed to small houses were in danger of falling over them, "Isn't he incomparable?" she exclaimed. "There never was such a delightful failure." "Poor Claude," sighed Lady Okehampton. "I suppose it is only the men who fail in everything who have time to be agreeable. If a young man has a great ambition, and is thinking of his career, he is generally a bear. Claude has wasted all his chances in life, and can afford to waste his time." "It was a pity he left the Army," said Susan. "He looked lovely in his uniform. I remember him as he flashed past me in a hansom, one summer morning after a levée, a vision of beauty." "It was a pity he got himself entrapped by a bad woman," said Lady Okehampton with a sigh. "His Colonel's second wife," put in Lady Susan. "Isn't it always the elderly Colonel's second wife?" Lady Okehampton gave another sigh. "It was a disgraceful story," she murmured. "Let us try to forget all about it." Vera had flushed and paled while they were talking. "But tell me about it, Aunt Mildred," she said, with a kind of angry eagerness. "Where was the disgrace, more than in all such cases? A wicked woman, a foolish young man--very young, wasn't he?" "Not five and twenty." "Where was the disgrace?" "Don't excite yourself, child. Duplicity--an old man's heart broken--Isn't that enough? An elopement or not an elopement; something horrid that happened after a regimental ball. I know nothing of the details, for it all took place while the regiment was in India, which only shows that Kipling's stories are true to life. The husband would not divorce her--which was a blessing--or Claude would have had to marry her. He spoilt his career by the intrigue; but marriage would have been worse." Vera's heart was beating violently when Claude sauntered into the room presently, and made his leisurely way to the sofa where she was sitting aloof from the other two, who had just entered upon an animated discussion of the last fashionable nerve-specialist and his methods. "What has made you so pale?" Claude asked, as he seated himself by Vera's side. "Was our walk through the streets too much for you? I should never forgive myself if----" "You have nothing to be sorry for. The walk was delightful. My aunt and Susie have been talking of unpleasant things." "What kind of things?" "Of your leaving the Army. You have never told me why you threw up your career." "My career! There was not much to lose. The Boer War was over; my regiment was in India all the time, and I never had a look in. Oh, they have been telling you an ugly story about your poor friend; and it will be 'The door is shut' again, I suppose."