“If we are all right together, obviously all right, very, very par-ti-cu-lar-ly all right--voyez vous, mon petit chou?--they will think nothing of it. ‘Poor Mr. Carey! What a pity the Duke’s champagne is so good!’ That’s what they’ll say. But if we--you and I--are not on perfect terms, if you behave like a bear that’s been sitting on a wasps’ nest--why then they’ll say--they’ll say--” “What’ll they say?” “They’ll say, ‘That was really a most painful scene at the Duke’s. She’s evidently been behaving quite abominably. Those yellow women always bring about all the tragedies--’” “Yellow women!” Lord Holme ejaculated. He looked hard at his wife. It was evident that his mind was tacking. “Miss Schley heard what you said to the feller,” he added. “People who never speak hear everything--naturally.” “How d’you mean--never speak? Why, she’s full of talk.” “How well she listened to him!” was Lady Holme’s mental comment. “If half the world heard it doesn’t matter if you and I choose it shouldn’t. Unless--” “Unless what?” “Unless you did anything last night--afterwards--that will make a scandal?” “Ah!” “Did you?” “That’s all right.” He applied himself with energy to the toast. Lady Holme recognised, with a chagrin which she concealed, that Lord Holme was not going to allow himself to be “managed” into any revelation. She recognised it so thoroughly that she left the subject at once. “We’d better forgive and forget,” she said. “After all, we are married and I suppose we must stick together.” There was a clever note of regret in her voice. “Are you sorry?” Lord Holme said, with a manner that suggested a readiness to be surly. “For what?” “That we’re married?” She sat calmly considering. “Am I? Well, I must think. It’s so difficult to be sure. I must compare you with other men--” “If it comes to that, I might do a bit of comparin’ too.” “I should be the last to prevent you, old boy. But I’m sure you’ve often done it already and always made up your mind afterwards that she wasn’t quite up to the marrying mark.” “Who wasn’t?” “The other--horrid creature.” He could not repress a chuckle. “You’re deuced conceited,” he said. “You’ve made me so.” “I--how?” “By marrying me first and adoring me afterwards.” They had finished tea and were no longer preoccupied with cups and saucers. It was very bright in the room, very silent. Lord Holme looked at his wife and remembered how much she was admired by other men, how many men would give--whatever men are ready to give--to see her as she was just then. It occurred to him that he would have been rather a fool if he had yielded to his violent impulse and shut her out of the house the previous night. “You’re never to speak to that cad again,” he said. “D’you hear?” “Whisper it close in my ear and I’ll try to hear. Your voice is so--what’s your expression--so infernally soft.” He put his great arm round her. “D’you hear?” “I’m trying.” “I’ll make you.”