“As you like,” he replied coolly, and held out his hand. “Good-bye, Miss--er--Tidmarsh. I’m glad to have met you, and I hope we shall have the pleasure of seeing you in Elsie’s new home one of these days.” “Oh yes, do come, Ireen!” cried the bride, forgetting her mortification for a moment. “I’ll run in and see you one of these evenings, and we’ll settle it.” “Get in, Elsie. You’re getting wet,” said Mr. Williams, and he pushed her into the taxi and climbed in after her, leaving Irene Tidmarsh walking away very quickly in the rain. “Well, I must say you might have been a bit more civil,” began Elsie, and then, as she turned her head round to face him, the words died away on her lips. “You didn’t think I was going to have a strange girl here, the first minute alone with _my wife_, did you?” he said thickly. “You little fool!” He caught hold of her roughly and kissed her with a vehemence that startled her. For the first time, Elsie realised something of the possessive rights that marriage with a man of Williams’ type would mean. For a frantic instant she was held in the grip of that sense of irrevocability that even the least imaginative can never wholly escape. Her panic only endured for a moment. “Don’t,” she began, as she felt that his embrace had pushed her over-large hat unbecomingly to one side. She was entirely unwarmed by passion, unattracted as she was by the man she had married, and chilled and depressed besides in the raw atmosphere of a pouring wet day in London. The first sound of her husband’s voice taught her her lesson. “There’s no ‘don’t’ about it now, Elsie. You remember that, if you please. We’re man and wife now, and you’re _mine_ to do as I please with.” His voice was at once bullying and gluttonous, and his dry, grasping hands moved over her with a clutching tenacity that reminded her sickeningly of a crab that she had once seen in the aquarium. Elsie was frightened as she had never in her life been frightened before, and the measure of her terror was that she could not voice it. She remained absolutely silent, and as nearly as possible motionless, beneath his unskilled caresses. Williams, however, hardly appeared to notice her utter lack of responsiveness. He was evidently too much absorbed in the sudden gratification of his own hitherto suppressed desires. Presently Elsie said faintly: “Where are we going to?” “I thought you’d want some luncheon.” “I couldn’t touch a morsel,” Elsie declared, shuddering. “Couldn’t you--couldn’t you take me home?” “Do you mean Hillbourne Terrace?” “Yes. I’ve got to tell mother some time to-day, and I’d rather get it over.” “Very well,” Williams agreed, with a curious little smile on his thin lips. “But you mustn’t think of it as being home now, you know, Elsie. Your home is where I live--where you’re coming back with me to-night. No more office for my little girl after to-day.” His short triumphant laugh woke no echo from her. “Do you want me to come in with you?”