Meriel's eyes shot a curious glance. Through the evening she had studied the husband and wife with a puzzled scrutiny, and now, at the end of it, she felt as far as ever from solving the mystery which she sensed as lying beneath the surface. Claudia's manner to her husband was gay and charming, but in the midst of her lightest badinage the friend of her youth had discerned an effort, a strain, an almost painful endeavour to win his approval. And he? Nothing could be more marked than the man's care for his beautiful wife. Why was it that through all his elaborate attentions there lurked a cold, a sinister effect? "But what can you have that you wish to cover, Claudia?" Meriel inquired. "By your own confession, you have only to wish and it is yours, and you have a devoted husband who looks after you as if you were the most fragile of hothouse flowers. It's absurd, you know, for you were always as strong as a horse! That transparent look of yours is a delusion; but how upset he seemed, poor man, because your cheek was just a little inflamed to-night." Claudia straightened herself; an involuntary shiver shook her slight form. Her voice had a nervous ring: "It's nothing--it's nothing!" she cried. "Just spring, and these horrid east winds. But it won't go! I've tried a dozen things; and he hates it--he hates any fuss or illness! I must never be ill, or have anything that spoils. There's this ball coming on next week, and I am to be the Ice Queen. I _must_ get my face better before then! I've got the most wonderful dress. He planned it for me. He is determined there shall be nothing to touch it in the room. Goodness knows the amount he has spent upon it! I simply daren't look anything but my best!" "My dear Claudia!" Meriel's voice was full of protest. "What nonsense you talk! You are very beautiful, my dear, but you can't expect an eternal perfection! You must have your ups and downs like other people, and grow old in your turn, and lose your hair and complexion, and grow withered and toothless!" Claudia leaped to her feet with a gesture which was almost fierce in its intensity. "Be quiet!" she cried. "Be quiet! Don't dare to speak of it. I'm young still; not twenty-seven. I've ages and ages ahead before I need think of growing old. And women don't lose their beauty nowadays. They know how to keep it. They _have_ to keep it! And I--I more than anyone!" She crossed the room to her dressing-table, and, switching on an extra electric light, bent low to examine her face in the glass. "It's only a slight rash, Meriel; _but it won't go_! I--I don't know what to do about it. I'm worried to death. Do help me. Do advise. Do tell me what to do." It was the first time that Claudia's friend had ever heard her appeal for help, and there was a thrill in her voice which could not be denied.