He made a strange thing of her life--a restless, unpeaceful, interesting, and unhappy thing. The old idea of reigning at Nutley, of skilfully managing stubborn Wellgood, of the seeming submission that was really rule (perhaps woman's commonest conception of triumph), did not serve the turn of this life. It was stranger work--living with Harry! Being so well treated--and so well deceived! So courted and so flouted! The change was violent from the days when Vivien's companion stole kisses that belonged to her unsuspecting charge. A pretty irony to find herself on the defensive! A prettier, perhaps, to see her best resource in an alliance with Mrs. Freere! But it came to that. Never in words, of course--tacitly, in lifted brows and shoulders shrugged. So long as there was nobody except Mrs. Freere--so long as there was nobody besides his wife--things were not very wrong for the allies. A sense of security regained, precariously regained--a current of silent but mutual congratulations--ran between the Bedford and the Norfolk hotels at Brighton when Lady Lucy had received her _congé_. Harry's degrees of penitence and of confession at the two houses of entertainment must remain uncertain; at both he was no doubt possessed by the determination to lead a new life; he had been possessed by that when first he heard the potent voice calling him to Meriton. Harry Belfield--the admired Harry of so many hopes--was in process of becoming a joke! It was the worst fate of all; yet what other refuge had the despair of his friends? Even to condemn with gravity was difficult; gravity seemed to accuse its wearer of making too much of the ridiculous--which was to be ridiculous himself. In old days they had laughed at Harry's love affairs as at his foible; he seemed all foible now--there was nothing else. His life and its possibilities had narrowed and dwindled down to that. Billy Foot had tried to be serious on the subject. What was the use, when there was only one question to be asked about him--who was the latest woman? An atmosphere of ridicule, kindly, tender, infinitely regretful, yet still ridicule, enveloped the figure of him who once had been a hero. This was a different quality of jest from that which found its occasion in Andy Hayes' patient wooing. Andy could afford to be patient; once again his opponent was doing his work for him.