"And now," I said, "I can only wish you good luck. I am nothing to you, but, if you ever feel kindly disposed to a dull old woman, do your best for Arthur, keep him happy--for my sake. You are making a great experiment and taking a great risk; you, and you alone, can crown it with success. When you both ask me to divorce my husband, I shall take the necessary steps; but I shall do nothing hastily. Perhaps, when you have been with him for a time, you will find that the difficulties are greater than you anticipated--or, let me say, that success is harder of achievement than you hoped. I ask only one thing: do not force yourselves into an extremity from any false pride. Be candid with me, as I have been candid with you. Should you find only _failure_ and the _prospect_ of failure, recognize it boldly. Write to me. Say 'It has not turned out as we expected. Your husband is coming back to you.' I shall receive him without reproaches, I shall know nothing. He will find his favourite dinner, his chair and cigar, his book and 'night-cap', as he calls it... I shall be truly glad to see him back, but I look at you, with all your youth and beauty; I know that I must not keep him if you are his hope of happiness. Kiss me, dear child," I said, "and do better for him than I have been able to do." A singular meeting! She stayed with me for nearly two hours longer. I won't say "not speaking a word", but I can say "not finishing a sentence." Bewildered... Then she went away, and I rang for my maid. I never heard from her again. On Thursday--_the_ Thursday--Arthur found his suit-case and kit-bag packed and labelled in the hall. "I don't want all this," he said, "for one night." ... And he was back again in three days. I _happen_ to know that he went alone and returned alone--and was alone in Paris... I was talking about the diary, was I not? It is not cheerful reading, and much of it is dull. This entry in question: "_Arthur returned from France tired and depressed, but very glad to be home again..._" It does not mean much... To any one else... I am not crying! I am simply _worn-out_...! Oh, my dear, I am too old for this kind of thing, apart from the long agony of humiliation. Arthur must send me _right_ away for a _complete_ change. He _can_ afford it now... IX LADY ANN SPENWORTH NARRATES AN EMBARRASSMENT AVERTED