"They were at St. Luke's last Sunday," Mrs. Walker was able to declare, though her wonted timidity again threw some suspicion on the statement. "St. Luke's! Why St. Luke's?" cried other voices. "It isn't their parish, is it?" "I think," suggested the widow, "it may be because the Liversedges go to St. Luke's. Mrs. Liversedge is"---- Her needless information was cut short by a remark from Mrs. Tenterden. "I could never listen Sunday after Sunday to Mr. Garraway. I think him excessively tedious. And his voice is so very trying." The incumbent of St. Luke's offered a brief diversion from the main theme. A mention of the Rev. Scatchard Vialls threatened to lead them too far, and Mrs. Roach interposed with firmness. "I still think it a very singular thing that they went abroad to be married." "But they _didn't_ go abroad, my dear," objected the hostess. "That is to say, one of them was already abroad." "Indeed! The whole thing seems very complicated. I think it needs explanation. I shouldn't feel justified in calling upon Mrs. Quarrier until"---- Her voice was overpowered by that of Mrs. Tenterden, who demanded loudly: "Is it true that she has already become very intimate with _that person_ Mrs. Wade?" "Oh, I _do_ hope not!" exclaimed several ladies. Here was an inexhaustible topic. It occupied more than an hour, until the last tea-cup had been laid aside and the more discreet callers were already on their way home. CHAPTER XIV There needed only two or three days of life at Polterham to allay the uneasiness with which, for all his show of equanimity, Denzil entered upon so perilous a career. By the end of January he had practically forgotten that his position was in any respect insecure. The risk of betraying himself in an unguarded moment was diminished by the mental habit established during eighteen months of secrecy in London. Lilian's name was seldom upon his lips, and any inquiry concerning her at once awakened his caution. Between themselves they never spoke of the past. Long ago he had silenced every conscientious scruple regarding the relation between Lilian and himself; and as for the man Northway, if ever he thought of him at all, it was with impatient contempt. That he was deceiving his Polterham acquaintances, and in a way which they would deem an unpardonable outrage, no longer caused him the least compunction. Conventional wrong doing, he had satisfied himself, was not wrong-doing at all, unless discovered. He injured no one. The society of such a person as Lilian could be nothing but an advantage to man, woman, and child. Only the sublimation of imbecile prejudice would maintain that she was an unfit companion for the purest creature living. He had even ceased to smile at the success of his stratagem. It was over and done with; their social standing was unassailable.