“I hope to Heaven they will!” said the poor fellow, putting his head down in his hands, in an attitude of the deepest dejection. Audrey passed a loving hand through her young husband’s soft curly hair. Light hair it was, though many shades darker than her own pale golden tresses. And his slight figure, which scarcely reached the middle height, his beardless face and grey eyes, made him look younger than his age, which was twenty-five. So that he looked absolutely boyish in his utter despair. “Listen,” whispered Audrey, as she tucked her hand under his arm, and nestled against him, “listen, Gerard, I have an idea. You and I are a pair of great babies, who don’t know what to do, or what to say, or how to get out of a difficulty. Let us go and see Mr. Candover, and ask his advice as to what we ought to do.” Gerard sat up. “By Jove, you’re right,” said he. “It’s--it’s a nasty thing to have to go about though,” objected he the next minute, as he began to fumble with the door-handle irresolutely. “Well, you don’t suppose _he_ will suspect you!” cried she brightly. “No, I suppose not. Still--I wish we had some one else to go to, some one nearer and----” “You wouldn’t like to go to your uncle, would you?” “Lord Clanfield! Not likely!” “Well, then, who _are_ we to go to? Who is older and cleverer than we are, I mean!” Gerard nodded. “You’re right, Audrey, your brains are better than mine. But I tell you, I was so knocked on the head, as it were, by what they said that--that I don’t feel as if I should ever be able to think again!” “Poor boy, poor boy!” she said softly. She had bravely kept back the tears, but now she had a hard struggle for it, and she dashed out of the room to fetch hat and cloak to avoid breaking down. Two minutes later they were in a hansom, driving to Victoria Street. Audrey indeed suggested the Underground, for they had been awakened rudely of late to the fact that they were exceeding their income; but Gerard was in no mood for small economies, and indeed every minute was precious, for Mr. Candover was a man of money and of pleasure, and they would be lucky if they caught him at home. So they drove along fast in the pleasant April evening, not noting the fresh breeze or the soft sunset light, indeed, but each holding the hand of the other furtively, tightly, with a resolute endeavour to keep down ugly doubts and anxieties, and to believe that all would come right. This Mr. Candover, whom they were going to consult, was their most intimate friend. Meeting him about eight months before, when they were enjoying their honeymoon abroad, they had attracted the older and rather blasé man of the world by their delight in life, by their devotion to each other, by the boyish high spirits of the young husband, the surpassing beauty of the wife.