It was the one faint intimation that he knew that she still needed help and that all had not gone well in the short period of their married life. Nora’s face fell. Her very real disappointment proved to her how much she had longed for the two women who had always been her friends, even in the darkest hours. She loved them as mother and sister. She had never felt for them the antipathy, the enmity which had grown up between her and the Selenecks, and, in lesser degrees, between her and all the other women of her husband’s circle, and she had longed for them as for a refuge from her increasing isolation. And now they were not coming—or, at least, not for some weeks. She was to be left alone among these strangers, these foreigners, with only Miles to support and uphold her. Only Miles? She remembered her husband with a pang of the old remorse, and she bent and kissed him as though to atone for some unintentional wrong. "I am sorry they are not coming," she said; "but perhaps the baths will do Hildegarde good, and as for me—why, have I not got my husband to turn to?" Wolff laughed happily. "After that pretty speech, I must hold out some reward, so that the practice may be encouraged," he said, waving the second letter in triumph. "Behold! His Excellency General von Hulson has done himself the honour to invite his future colleague, the Captain von Arnim, _nebst_ his beautiful _Gemählin_ and honourable brother-in-law, to a ball on the 17th of next month. Now, are you satisfied?" "How good you are to me, dear!" She kissed him, guiltily conscious that her joy had been but a poor feigning. Now, for the first time, she realised clearly how far she had drifted from her husband’s circle. She shrank from that which had once been the goal of her ambition. Wolff laughed at her, mistaking the cause of her hesitation. "Verily, I am growing to be a wise husband!" he said gaily. "Are all the fine dresses worn out, that my wife’s fair face should be so overcast? Well, there! Is that enough to cover future expenses, Vanity?" He had pressed a little bundle of paper-money into her hand, and she looked at it, dazed with surprise. She did not know that it was Bruno’s price which he had given her, but again her eyes filled. She pitied him in that moment more than herself. "You dear, generous fellow!" she stammered mechanically. "It’s not generosity, little woman. It’s only right that you should have change and gaiety. You must not think that I do not understand how dull and dreary it must sometimes be. I do understand—it goads me sometimes to think how little I can do. Perhaps one day it will all be better—when I am Field-Marshal, you know!" He tried to laugh, but somehow a certain weariness rang through his laughter. She heard it, and remorse mingled with her pity.