“Fenella talked like a wild Indian, you know. It couldn’t be supposed that because Lord Francis Onslow kicked up his heels rather more than was exactly pretty, Lady Francis Onslow was to be allowed to follow suit. He had taken exception to a certain man--military attaché to one of the Embassies--and forbade Fenella to dance with him or receive him in her drawing room. Needless to say that Fenella made a point of waltzing with him the next night, and of giving him a standing invitation to five o’clock tea. More rows. Family consultations. Aunt Grizel volunteering as peace-maker; I think that was the last straw. Fenella insisted on a separation; she was as obstinate as possible. She would take her boy and leave him. As to the money, he might keep it all. And that sort of wild nonsense.” “But she carried her point? She left him? How was it possible that he let her go?” “My dear friend, the idea of talking of ‘letting’ or not letting Fenella Onslow do anything she had set her will on is refreshingly _naïf_. She threatened them that if they did not consent to an amicable arrangement she would bring legal proceedings (on account of the Mongolian fascinator!) and make a scandal. Well, the Onslows hate the name of a scandal as a mad dog hates water.” “Or as a burnt child dreads the fire,” put in Jacynth. “At any rate, among them they cobbled up the deed of separation; and there is poor Frank with a wife and no wife, and the boy--he was devoted to the little chap--taken away from him, at any rate for some years.” “And there is Lady Francis Onslow with a husband and no husband.” “Upon my soul I believe she’s happier without him, upon my soul I do! All she cares for in life is to flirt; to decoy some wretched fellow into a desperate state about her, and then to turn him off with an impudent little assumption of innocence, and declare she meant nothing. People said there was more in that affair of the military attaché, than her usual coquetries. But I don’t know. I don’t believe she has it in her power to care for any man. However, very few of those who saw the little drama being acted before their eyes take a lenient view of Fenella’s conduct. I felt bound to open your eyes, Jacynth. The woman is as dangerous as a rattlesnake. Of course she’s gone and made a hideous hash of her own life; but she has done worse than that to other people’s lives, and she’ll go on doing it. I saw her just now sitting up on the box-seat of the coach beside her husband, and----” “Beside _whom_?” “Beside her husband, Frank Onslow. There’s nothing she hasn’t impudence enough for! It wouldn’t surprise me if they were to come together again.”