"_Trust you_?" cried Diana, shaken out of her composure. "Yes! But I never promised to stand trustingly by while you put another woman in my place. This is the end, Max. I've had enough." A sudden look of apprehension dawned in his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply. "What do I mean?"--bleakly. "Oh, nothing. I never do mean anything, do I? . . . Well, good-bye. I expect you'll have left the house before I come down to-morrow morning. I hope . . . you'll enjoy your visit to the country." She waited a moment, as though expecting some reply; then, as he neither stirred nor spoke, she went quickly out of the room, closing the door behind her. CHAPTER XXII THE PARTING OF THE WAYS "Jerry"--Diana came into her husband's study, where his secretary, who had nothing further to do until his employer's return, was pottering about putting the bookshelves to rights, "Jerry, I'm going to give you a holiday. You can go down to Crailing to-day." Jerry turned round in surprise. "But, I say, Diana, I can't, you know--not while Max is away. I'm supposed to make myself useful to you." "Well, I think you did make yourself--very useful--last night, didn't you?" "Oh, that!" Jerry shrugged his shoulders. Then, surveying her critically, he added: "You look awfully tired this morning, Di!" She did. There were purple shadows beneath her eyes, and her face looked white and drawn. The previous evening had been the occasion of her reception, and she had carried it pluckily through single-handed. Quiet and composed, she had moved about amongst her guests, covering Max's absence with a light touch and pretty apology, her demeanour so natural and unembarrassed that the tongues, which would otherwise have wagged swiftly enough, were inevitably stilled. But the strain had told upon her. This morning she looked haggard and ill, more fit to be in bed than anything else. "Oh, I shall be all right after a night's rest," she answered cheerfully. "And as to making yourself useful there's really nothing I want you to do for me. But I _do_ want you to go and make your peace with your father, and take Joan to him. I'm sure he'll love her! So I'm writing to Max telling him that I've given you leave of absence. He won't be returning till Saturday at the earliest, and probably not then. If he wants you back on Monday, we'll wire." Jerry hesitated. "Are you sure it will be quite all right? I don't really like leaving you." "Quite all right," she assured him. "I _did_ want you for the party last night, and you were the greatest possible help to me. But now, I don't want you a bit for anything. If you're quick, you can catch the two o'clock down express and"--twinkling--"see Joan this evening." "Diana, you're a brick!" And Jerry dashed upstairs to pack his suit-case.