Studies in Wives By MRS. BELLOC LOWNDES NEW YORK MITCHELL KENNERLEY _2 East 29th Street_ _Copyright, 1910, by Mitchell Kennerly_ CONTENTS PAGE I. ALTHEA'S OPPORTUNITY 1 II. MR. JARVICE'S WIFE 47 III. A VERY MODERN INSTANCE 93 IV. ACCORDING TO MEREDITH 151 V. SHAMEFUL BEHAVIOUR? 205 VI. THE DECREE MADE ABSOLUTE 277 I ALTHEA'S OPPORTUNITY "His confidence shall be rooted out of his tabernacle, and it shall bring him to the king of terrors."--JOB xviii. 14. There came the sound of a discreet, embarrassed cough, and Althea Scrope turned quickly round from the window by which she had been standing still dressed in her outdoor things. She had heard the door open, the unfolding of the tea-table, the setting down of the tea-tray, but her thoughts had been far away from the old house in Westminster which was now her home; her thoughts had been in Newcastle, dwelling for a moment among the friends of her girlhood, for whom she had been buying Christmas gifts that afternoon. The footman's cough recalled her to herself, and to the present. "Am I to say that you are at home this afternoon, ma'am?" Althea's thoughtful, clear eyes rested full on the youth's anxious face. He had not been long in the Scropes' service, and this was the first time he had been left in such a position of responsibility, but Dockett, the butler, was out, a rare event, for Dockett liked to be master in his master's house. Before the marriage of Perceval Scrope, Dockett had been Scrope's valet, and, as Althea was well aware, the man still regarded her as an interloper. Althea did not like Dockett, but Perceval was very fond of him, and generally spoke of him to his friends as "Trip." Althea had never been able to discover the reason of the nickname, and she had not liked to ask; her husband often spoke a language strange to her. "I will see Mr. Bustard if he comes," she said gently. Dockett would not have disturbed her by asking the question, for Dockett always knew, by a sort of instinct, whom his master and mistress wished to see or to avoid seeing. Again she turned and stared out of the high, narrow, curtainless windows. Perceval Scrope did not like curtains, and so of course there were no curtains in his wife's drawing-room. Snow powdered the ground. It blew in light eddies about the bare branches of the trees marking the carriage road through St. James's Park, and was caught in whirling drifts on the frozen sheet of water which reflected the lights on the bridge spanning the little lake. Even at this dreary time of the year it was a charming outlook, and one which most of Althea's many acquaintances envied her.