“I’ve no doubt,” said he stiffly, “that if, when the prison authorities thought of releasing him, they had been able to find his wife, and to give him back to her care, it would have been better for him, much better. But you had disappeared; you had hidden yourself under a fresh name. And--really I’m sorry to have to say it, as I see you are truly sorry for the situation you have brought about, I cannot but think that, if he were to learn the truth about you and about the life you’ve been leading while he was in prison, it would be the last straw. He would never hold up his head again.” Audrey heard these words with the wildest despair. Well though she knew that Lord Clanfield exaggerated the case, that he looked upon her as a woman who had deliberately chosen to give up her name and her enforced widowhood for a life of pleasure and for companions of the most undesirable type, she knew too that even the truth was bad enough to shock poor Gerard and to wake all sorts of terrible suspicions in his breast. She was sure that, if she could broach the matter at her own time and in her own way, when the joy of reunion should have soothed his anguish and softened the remembrance of his trials, the sudden and unsympathetic recital of the circumstances of her life, even without exaggeration, would be more than he could bear. So that these cruel words of the viscount’s could not be resented with indignation, his assertions could not even be denied. She could, however, make an effort to put him right about herself, and, as much for Gerard’s sake as her own, she set about doing so with the utmost earnestness. “Lord Clanfield,” she said, in a low, pleading voice, “you do me the most terrible injustice. I’ve never done anything unworthy of Gerard’s wife, indeed. I’ve done something that neither he nor you would perhaps approve, in starting a millinery business under a high-sounding name, and in allowing myself to be persuaded into receiving all sorts of people in a house I have rented, in the hope of attracting customers for what I sell, and clients for the business. I was advised to do these things, and though it was distasteful, the advice sounded good from the monetary point of view. That’s the worst I have done, indeed, indeed it is. Oh, if you don’t believe me, I’m sure that Gerard would!” Lord Clanfield was walking up and down his end of the room, much perturbed and distressed. At last he stopped short and turned to her. “My dear lady,” he said, and the very words indicated a welcome change of temper towards her, she thought, “supposing what you say is true--and I am bound to say I can’t quite believe you--what then? Do you really think it is nothing to have brought upon yourself, so lightly as you have done, the suspicions which any reasonable person would naturally entertain of you? Do you think your conduct is such as to be a credit to my family--mine?” “I’ve--I’ve done nothing really wrong,” pleaded Audrey humbly.