“What has she come here for?” “I suppose it’s a call. She asked if you were at home.” “And what did you say?” “I said yes. You hadn’t told me that you didn’t want to receive callers.” Molly felt herself baffled. She bit her lip, and looked hard at Alistair. “Our marriage was announced in the paper,” he said, pushing his advantage. “That entitles my friends to call on you, I suppose. In fact, it would be rather marked if they did not.” “Your mother hasn’t called.” “No. That is rather marked.” Molly saw she was in a dilemma. She would have been glad to cut off all further acquaintance between her husband and this girl, of whom she had such good reason to be jealous. But Miss Vanbrugh’s visit offered an opening into society, that respectable society which had been the object of her ambition for so long. It was the first opening that had presented itself, and it might very easily be the last. Lady Alistair decided to sacrifice jealousy to ambition, and, like other wives, to make her husband suffer for the sacrifice. “You know that she has only come to see you,” she said. “If you think so you can stay up here. I will go down and tell her that you have a headache.” “Yes, you would like that, wouldn’t you? Me to stay up here by myself, while you and her enjoy yourselves without me! I shall come down.” “You may do as you please. But if you imagine that Miss Vanbrugh or any other lady would consent to stay and talk with the master of the house while the mistress keeps out of the room, you have a good deal to pick up.” This speech produced an effect on Lady Alistair. She did not resent receiving lessons in social etiquette. “You want me as a chaperon, I suppose,” she grumbled, hastily touching up her toilet and complexion. “What nonsense! I doubt if I shall stay in the room. You must learn to entertain your own visitors.” Incredulous, but silenced, Molly descended and faced the enemy with a warlike front. At the first sight and speech of Hero she felt herself half disarmed. The perfect sincerity, the clear nobility of nature, that shone in Hero’s face, put every thought of vulgar jealousy instantly to shame. This woman might be a rival, and a formidable one, in the sense that a mother or a bachelor friend is the rival of a selfish wife, but she would never be a rival in any other sense. “Dear Lady Alistair, I am afraid I have been rather slow in calling, but we have been abroad, and when we got back I found I had really nothing to wear. What do you do for your autumn hats?” One glance at the overdressed and bejewelled little woman had taught Hero the way to her friendship. Once lured on to the ground of millinery Molly became interested and animated before she knew it, and Stuart found himself provided with a good excuse for slipping out of the room.