“Very well, Madame,” Griggs attended to the fire, and left the room, turning as he reached the door. “I shall be just outside should you wish me.” “Thank you, Griggs,” she murmured, gazing intently into the flames. With only a dulled pain she was able to visualize what Hugh was doing, where he had gone since he left her. Her instinct told her he had gone straight to Geraldine DeLacy. And, right as is so often the case with a woman who loves, Marjorie Benton’s instinct had been right. Straight as a homing pigeon, the infatuated man had rushed from the room where he had had his aggravating and unsatisfactory interview with his wife, and, waiting long enough only to telephone to be sure that she was in, he had hurried to the woman who had taken his wife’s place in his affections. No thought of the pain of the woman he had left behind. Only an eagerness to be with the new love—to hear her soft voice whisper words of love and compassion, to tell him there was nought else in the world beside their love, to reassure him he had been right. Geraldine DeLacy, alone, as she told him, since the Thurstons were in Atlantic City and Nell, the daughter of the house, was out with Hugh’s own son, carefully hung up the receiver after her telephonic interview and rushed to arrange her hair and to slip into a becoming negligee. From Hugh’s tone, she knew that something was wrong. She did not need his further assurance that he was “frightfully upset,” but she shrewdly suspected the reason for his being so. She had known right along that Marjorie would prove difficult, but Hugh had been so sure of being able to reason with her. “Like all men,” she thought impatiently, “he believes he can handle any situation. Hmph! Men!” There was a deep sarcasm in the gesture with which she shook out a clinging flounce. One thing she was assured of, however. She must be cautious and most tactful in everything she said to him, as he would probably be in a trying mood. She met him with an encouraging smile: “What has happened, dear? I have been terribly worried about you. You seem so unnerved!” “Darling!” he replied. “My one comfort in a comfortless world!” He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly. “I’ve been through a dreadful scene—I just had to come to you to talk it over.” “There, there,” she soothed him, “everything is bound to be all right. Sit here beside me and tell me all about it.” “Well—I went to Marjorie to-night, as we discussed doing,”—Geraldine smiled inwardly when she remembered who it was who had suggested the interview,—“and asked her to divorce me.” “Yes—and—?” The young widow’s hand trembled beneath his. Hugh threw out his hands impatiently. “She positively refuses to give me my freedom, and you know that I, myself, haven’t a chance in the world of obtaining it.” “What did she say—what reasons did she give?” Geraldine purred softly to hide her chagrin.