He sat down again with a sudden sense of loss. There was no white figure opposite now. Raising his eyes he met Sarelli's. The Italian was regarding him with a curious stare. Herr Paul began retailing apiece of scandal he had heard that afternoon. “Shocking affair!” he said; “I could never have believed it of her! B—-is quite beside himself. Yesterday there was a row, it seems!” “There has been one every day for months,” muttered Dawney. “But to leave without a word, and go no one knows where! B—-is 'viveur' no doubt, mais, mon Dieu, que voulez vous? She was always a poor, pale thing. Why! when my—-” he flourished his cigar; “I was not always—-what I should have been—-one lives in a world of flesh and blood—-we are not all angels—-que diable! But this is a very vulgar business. She goes off; leaves everything—-without a word; and B—-is very fond of her. These things are not done!” the starched bosom of his shirt seemed swollen by indignation. Mr. Treffry, with a heavy hand on the table, eyed him sideways. Dawney said slowly: “B—-is a beast; I'm sorry for the poor woman; but what can she do alone?” “There is, no doubt, a man,” put in Sarelli. Herr Paul muttered: “Who knows?” “What is B—-going to do?” said Dawney. “Ah!” said Herr Paul. “He is fond of her. He is a chap of resolution, he will get her back. He told me: 'Well, you know, I shall follow her wherever she goes till she comes back.' He will do it, he is a determined chap; he will follow her wherever she goes.” Mr. Treffry drank his wine off at a gulp, and sucked his moustache in sharply. “She was a fool to marry him,” said Dawney; “they haven't a point in common; she hates him like poison, and she's the better of the two. But it doesn't pay a woman to run off like that. B—-had better hurry up, though. What do you think, sir?” he said to Mr. Treffry. “Eh?” said Mr. Treffry; “how should I know? Ask Paul there, he's one of your moral men, or Count Sarelli.” The latter said impassively: “If I cared for her I should very likely kill her—if not—” he shrugged his shoulders. Harz, who was watching, was reminded of his other words at dinner, “wild beasts whom I would tear to pieces.” He looked with interest at this quiet man who said these extremely ferocious things, and thought: 'I should like to paint that fellow.' Herr Paul twirled his wine-glass in his fingers. “There are family ties,” he said, “there is society, there is decency; a wife should be with her husband. B—-will do quite right. He must go after her; she will not perhaps come back at first; he will follow her; she will begin to think, 'I am helpless—I am ridiculous!' A woman is soon beaten. They will return. She is once more with her husband—Society will forgive, it will be all right.” “By Jove, Paul,” growled Mr. Treffry, “wonderful power of argument!” “A wife is a wife,” pursued Herr Paul; “a man has a right to her society.” “What do you say to that, sir?” asked Dawney.