"Perhaps you’re right," said Lady Wereminster slowly, proceeding once more to enfold herself in a voluminous motor veil. "By the way, you never asked me how I found out your hiding-place. Your husband gave me your address—in the very strictest confidence. I’m not sure he hasn’t given it to other people too. I saw him standing in a corner last night at the Beadons’ party, with Mr. Farquharson; the future Prime Minister wrote down something on his shirt-cuff as your husband left. It may have been an appointment, I don’t know." She turned briskly. "Well, there’s the motor. You won’t change your mind and let me take you back? Good-bye, then, wilful woman." She was gone. And Evelyn, standing alone at the gate watching her out of sight, found her voice at last and called, "Come back, come back," too late. She even ran a few steps in the direction that the motor had taken before realizing the utter futility of her action. Only one’s thoughts can keep pace with a forty horse-power car! Half-indignant, half-despairing, she repeated Lady Wereminster’s words. So the world was talking, was it? Well, it had no respect of persons. She was blamed in good company. In days of old, a king’s conduct was supposed to be beyond reproach; now-a-days even his Majesty’s actions were occasionally called into question by the daily Press to whom he gave the liberty which they thus abused. Surely an insignificant person like herself could afford to let the world say what it would and bide her time. For sooner or later evil tongues bring evil on themselves; they carry their own corruption with them. The poison of asps killed Cleopatra in her day. And souls and reputations are alike easily slain. For herself it did not matter. But Farquharson had his foot on the ladder of success. He was in the thick of enemies; this, the outset of his campaign in England, was the critical period. He must not be checked now, whatever happened. Too late to repair it, she saw the mistake she had made. She had run away like a frightened school-girl—run away from thoughts and fears and memories which had only taken a stronger hold on her in the past week. A little forethought—a hint of enforced economy to Lady Wereminster, and she might have got some post as chaperon to a girl abroad, and let her flat. There was her husband to be reckoned with, of course, but with board and lodging paid for, she herself could have managed on very little money, and long experience had shown her that Brand well paid was Brand well satisfied.