On the following morning Sir Robert went to Jack’s room before that young man was up, and sitting on the edge of his bed, gave him such a searching catechism, ending with such a severe lecture, that his late ward was surprised at the thoroughness with which the baronet, his fears once roused, tackled the subject of his wife’s flirtation. The result of this was satisfactory in the main to Sir Robert. Jack appeared to be perfectly frank and only slightly ashamed of himself. He protested that he and Lady Sarah had never been more to each other than sympathetic companions and devoted friends, and that, while he admitted he was fonder of her than he had ever been of any woman, they had never exceeded the limits of innocent flirtation; and Jack reminded the baronet that he must have been aware, all this time, that they did flirt. Sir Robert scarcely knew how to meet this. It was true that his wife had openly flirted with Jack before him; but coquetry was ingrain in her nature, and when she had nobody else to amuse herself with, she even, upon occasion, coquetted, much to his delight, with her husband himself. The upshot of the conversation was that he obtained from Jack a solemn promise to go away without an attempt to communicate with Lady Sarah, and to travel abroad for a time, undertaking the while not to correspond with her. Upon this promise Jack was allowed to leave the house at once, under an appearance of perfect amity with its master; and the simple-minded baronet congratulated himself on having got out of a difficulty and saved his brilliant wife from further danger, in a fairly satisfactory manner. When Lady Sarah came downstairs, she was met by her husband, who escorted her into the morning-room, and told her, very gently and without any further appearance of anger or resentment, that he and Jack had talked over the matter of their conversation of the previous night, and that they had both come to the conclusion that the best thing to be done was that all relations between the young man and his friends at the Mill-house should be broken off for the present. Lady Sarah, sitting by the window with her lips compressed and her hands tightly clasped, listened in dead silence. When he had finished she paused, and receiving no reply, at length said: “Well! I hope you’re satisfied that we’ve done the best thing possible to bury this unhappy affair of the loss of the picture?” “Oh, quite,” said she lightly, in a hard, scoffing tone. “Jack and I are each put in a corner, and bidden not to turn our faces round from the wall to look at each other. Nothing could be better.” “I wish you wouldn’t take it like that, my dear. You must realise that you have been playing with your reputation,” he said. “Oh, hang my reputation. What’s the use of having a husband at all if his presence isn’t sufficient security for his wife’s good behaviour?” It was “a nasty one,” and it was meant to be so. Sir Robert drew back, wounded.