"So I think, but women as a rule don't. At all events, they are content to whine a little, and do nothing. Poor wretches, what _can_ they do, as I said?" "They can go away, and, if need be, starve." "They have children." Cecily became mute. "Will you let me come and see you now and then?" Mrs. Travis asked presently. "Come whenever you feel you would like to," Cecily answered, rousing herself from reverie. The house in which Mrs. Travis now lived was a quarter of an hour's drive beyond that of the Elgars; she would have alighted and walked, making nothing of it, but of course Cecily could not allow this. The coachman was directed to make the circuit. When Cecily reached home, it was after one o'clock. CHAPTER II THE PROPRIETIES DEFENDED The house was in Belsize Park. Light shone through the blind of one of the upper windows, but the rest of the front was lifeless. Cecily's ring at the bell sounded distinctly; it was answered at once by a maid-servant, who said that Mr. Elgar was still in the library. Having spoken a few words, ending with a kind good night, Cecily passed through the hall and opened the library door. A reading-lamp made a bright sphere on the table, but no one sat within its rays. After a fruitless glance round the room, Cecily called her husband's name. There was a sound of moving, and she saw that Reuben was on a sofa which the shadow veiled. "Have you been asleep?" she asked merrily, as she approached him. He stood up and stretched himself, muttering. "Why didn't you go to bed, poor boy? I'm dreadfully late; I went out of my way to take some one home." "Who was that?" Elgar inquired, coming forward and seating himself on the corner of the writing-table. "Mrs. Travis. She has come to stay with friends at Hampstead. But to bed, to bed! You look like Hamlet when he came and frightened Ophelia. Have you had an evil dream?" "That's the truth; I have." "What about?" "Oh, a stupid jumble." He moved the lamp-shade, so that the light fell suddenly full upon her. "Why have you made such friends all at once with Mrs. Travis?" "How is your headache?" "I don't know--much the same. Did she ask you to take her home?" "Yes, she did--or suggested it, at all events." "Why has she come to Hampstead?" "How can I tell, dear? Put the lamp out, and let us go." He sat swinging his leg. The snatch of uncomfortable sleep had left him pale and swollen-eyed, and his hair was tumbled. "Who was there to-night?" "Several new people. Amedee Silvenoire--the dramatist, you know; an interesting man. He paid me the compliment of refraining from compliments on my French. Madame Jacquelin, a stout and very plain woman, who told us anecdotes of George Sand; remind me to repeat them to-morrow. And Mr. Bickerdike, the pillar of idealism." "Bickerdike was there?" Elgar exclaimed, with an air of displeasure. "He didn't refer to his acquaintance with you. I wonder why not?" "Did you talk to the fellow?"