Shelby could have felled him for taking the girl's hand--Cora's mattered nothing. But what of his own hand? Milicent's fan suddenly escaped its fastening, and as suddenly he caught at the pretext for which he groped. Again in his place, Ludlow had drifted by with no word spoken between them. He sighed with relief, and in the same breath cursed himself and the conventions which compelled such cunning. In a rational world he could have knocked him down. Once again that evening they came face to face. It was late--past one o'clock--and the governor issuing from the smoking-room met Ludlow at the threshold. No one was within earshot; fate itself seemed to have ordered the meeting, and till that moment Shelby had desired to confront Ludlow with a fierce desire. Yet they passed with a nod. Long uncertain before many offering courses, Shelby on the instant made his choice. The orchestra hushed, the last good night spoken, Milicent gone to her dreams, the house half in darkness, he intercepted Cora in the corridor leading to her apartments. "Ten minutes of your time," he requested. She stared, yawned, and stared again. "At this hour?" "Now." She led the way into her dressing-room and sent away her maid. Shelby waited silently by the open grate till they should be alone. "You're rather pale," observed his wife, languidly, in passing to a chair; and with finger tip lightly brushed his cheek. He shrank involuntarily. "Pale and nervous," she added, "and a fit subject for bed. Was Old Silky disagreeable to-day? I thought him as sweet as peaches tonight. Did you notice Mrs. Van Dam's famous diamonds? It's not often she wears them all. Milicent got her to do it." "I was in the greenhouse before dinner, Cora," said Shelby, speaking with slow emphasis. "I saw you and Ludlow." "Oh, yes," returned the woman, glibly, "we were wondering whether the large drawing-room needed a few more palms." "I saw you and Ludlow in one another's arms," pursued her husband in the same hard staccato. "I saw him kiss you." She half rose, eying him fearfully; then, reassured by what she saw, sank back in her seat, fingering the long glove she had partly drawn from one white arm. As on that other night, her faultless shoulders rose from a black setting of laces and shining jet, and, manlike, Shelby took the garment for the same which had helped to warp the fabric of his life from its design. The remembrance maddened him. "Speak, you devil," he charged. "I love him," she returned defiantly. "I love him." "And my wife!" "I was Joe's wife--before." "You've the right to say it," he owned. "Well, then, meet me halfway. Since you know the truth, what do you advise me to do?" "Advise you?" he echoed. "Precisely. Put yourself in my place. Suppose that you were in love with somebody." He started. "I--"