'If he was detected in the act, he would be at that woman's mercy. She might compel him to do anything in order to avoid open humiliation and disgrace and ruin.' At the thought of what he might be compelled to do, she was divided between terror, tears and rage. Since the woman had once pretended to love him, and, no doubt, was still burning with a desire to be his wife, she might even force him--oh, horrible! 'Ellen, you're pulling my hair again.' Which was not to be wondered at, considering how unexpectedly the young lady jerked her head. She ate no dinner, excused herself from two engagements, made herself generally so agreeable that she drove her father to remark that her temper was not improving, and he pitied the man who had anything to do with her. Which observation added to her misery, for she knew quite well that her temper was her weakest point. She was a wretch, and she had ruined him! Throughout the night she scarcely slept. She was continually getting off the bed to pace the room, exclaiming,-- 'I wonder if he's doing it now?' She must have wondered if he was doing it 'now' nearly a hundred times, apparently under the impression that 'it' was an operation which took time. The result was that, when the morning came, she did not feel rested, and looked what she felt, causing her father--an uncomfortably observant gentleman, who prided himself, with justice, on being able to say as many disagreeable things as any man--to remark that she looked 'vinegary,' which soured Miss Broad still more. She had an appointment with Mr Holland, at the usual place in Regent's Park, for ten. They were to have a little conversation; then, together, they were to go to church. She was at the rendezvous at nine, though how she managed to do it was a mystery even to herself. At ten minutes past she began to fidget, at the half-hour she was in a fever, and when ten o'clock struck, and there was no Mr Holland, she was as nearly beside herself as she could conveniently be. 'He's never been late before--never, never! Oh, what has happened?' She went a little way along a path by which she thought that he might come; then, fearful that after all he might come another way, tremulously retracing her steps, she returned to the seat. But she could not sit still, nor stand still either. She was up and down, sitting and standing, fidgeting here and there, glancing in every direction, like the frightened creature she was rapidly becoming. Every nerve in her body was on edge. When the quarter struck, and there were no signs of Mr Holland, she could restrain herself no longer. Tears blinded her eyes; she had to use her handkerchief before she could see. It would have needed very little for her to become hysterical. She knew her man--his almost uncanny habit of punctuality. She was certain that, if nothing serious had happened to prevent him, he would have been in time to a moment. She was sure, therefore, that something had happened. But what?