"I want an answer, Nora," Wolff continued firmly. "The thought that you might be hiding the truth from your people out of loyalty towards me is intensely painful. Heaven knows, I would bring every possible sacrifice——" "Hush!" Nora interrupted, and there was a curious note of sternness in her young voice. "I hate to hear you talk like that. It sounds as though _I_ had brought some sacrifice, or had lowered myself to become your wife. I married you, Wolff, because I loved you, and because I knew that you were the only man with whom I could be happy. You have given me everything my most sanguine hopes could ask of life. That is the truth. What more can I say?" He bent and kissed her. "Thank you, dear," he said. "Then I may write to your father?" "Yes—of course. I shall miss our quiet evenings alone, Wolff; but if you think it right——" "I think there is nothing else for us to do," her husband answered. "After all, I do not expect it will be for long. We must not be selfish, dearest." Nora smiled cheerfully; but for the first time in her married life the cheerfulness was forced. She could not shake off the feeling that a change had come, and one which was to bring no good with it. *CHAPTER III* *A MEETING* Frau von Seleneck was engaged with her toilet before the looking-glass, and Nora, seated in the place of honour on the sofa, watched her with a critical interest. Hitherto she had not troubled herself much with the dowdiness or the smartness of her friends’ apparel; she had accepted the general principle that "those sort of things did not matter so long as everybody knew who you were"; but something or other had occurred of late to change her attitude—a something which she had successfully avoided analysing. Only when Frau von Seleneck drew on her white silk mittens, Nora found herself wondering what Miles would think of her and, indeed, of everything. Not that Miles’s opinion was of the slightest importance, but the possibility of criticism roused her to criticise; she was beginning to consider her surroundings without the aid of love-tinted glasses, and the results, if hitherto painless, were somewhat disconcerting. "Now I am really ready!" Elsa von Seleneck declared, considering her bemittened hands. "How do you like my dress, Nora?" She lifted the ends of her mouse-coloured evening cloak and displayed herself with complacency. "No one would believe I had had it three years. Frau von Schilling said she thought it was quite a marvel. But you English have such good taste—I should like to know what you think." Nora took a deep breath, and then, having seen the round, good-natured face turn to her with an expression of almost wistful appeal, plunged.