‘She can’t help loving me,’ he mused. ‘She always has loved me, and she is not a woman likely to change her feelings in a hurry. I’m sorry she saw me with Lily Brancewith; and of course, if that jade Marina has really been talking to her there’ll be a devil of a row. I must make it right with her somehow, and I think I know the best way to go to work.’ Here he smiled. ‘Poor little woman! I daresay she feels awfully sore; but I know her character—a few loving words and plenty of kisses and embraces, and she’ll be just the same as ever she was, and—and—by Jove! I’ll see if I can’t turn over a new leaf. It’ll be infernally dull, but I’ll try it!’ And perfectly satisfied with the plan he had formulated in his own mind for setting things straight, he arrived at his own house. The door was opened to him by Robson, who informed him that her ladyship had returned about an hour ago and was waiting to see him in her study. ‘In her study, did you say?’ he repeated. ‘Yes, my lord. Her ladyship said, would you kindly go up at once, as soon as you came in.’ A touch of ‘nerves’ affected him as he threw off his coat and began to ascend the stairs. He saw Robson extinguish the gas in the hall and descend kitchenwards, and a great silence and darkness seemed to encompass the house as he paused for a moment outside his wife’s room. Then, slowly and with some hesitation, he lifted the velvet _portière_ and entered. *CHAPTER XI* Delicia was at her desk, writing. She had taken off her rich evening costume and was clad in a loose robe of white cashmere that fell down to her feet, draping her after the fashion of one of Fra Angelico’s angels. Her hair was unbound from its ‘dress coiffure’ of elaborate twists and coils, and was merely thrust out of her way at the back of her head in one great knot of gold. She rose as her husband entered, and turned her face, deadly pale and rigid as a statue’s, full upon him. He paused, looking at her, and felt his braggart courage oozing out at his fingers’ ends. ‘Delicia,’ he began, making a poor attempt at smiling. ‘Delicia, I am awfully sorry—’ Her eyes, full of a burning indignation, flashed upon him like lightning and struck him, despite himself, into silence. ‘Spare yourself and me any further lies!’ she said, in a low voice that vibrated with intense passion. ‘There is no longer any need of them. You have shown me yourself as you are, in your true colours—the mask has fallen, and you need not stoop to pick it up and put it on again. It is mere waste of time!’ He stared at her, foolishly pulling at his moustache and still trying to smile.