Mrs. Mounteagle raises her eyebrows at Eleanor's agitated tones. "You told me he would be late this evening." "Did I?" easing on her gloves. Carol is standing behind with her cloak. His hands linger a moment as they fall on her shoulder, and he turns up the warm fur collar about her ears. "My mite of a brougham only holds two," says Giddy, "and Bertie is coming with me, so I dare say Mr. Quinton will see you home in a hansom." The suggestion amazes Eleanor. Really Giddy has the most delightful ideas, and as to Philip's prejudices----well her thoughts on this subject are better not divulged. One moment she is a panic-stricken girl, afraid as the very word "flirtation", the next, inconsistent, susceptible, a slave to Giddy's whims, easily led, easily beguiled. She can hear her heart beating, as Carol helps her into the hansom. It is dark already, dark as the unknown future, while they whirl away in the gloom. "It is cold," says Eleanor. He wraps her furs closer round her. "_Cold?_" with a tender glance. There is a volume in the word. * * * * * Philip in the meanwhile is having tea with his cousin, Erminie Henderson. She is a thoroughly staunch woman, with the warmest of hearts, sociable, bright, reliable, always ready with a helping hand where help is needed, yet human enough to err occasionally. Philip has known her from a child, has seen her weaknesses and excellences. The former overrule the latter. She is fond of him in a cousinly spirit, and delighted at his visit. For some time they talk on ordinary subjects, till at last Erminie folds her arms, looks him searchingly up and down, and asks straight out: "What's the matter, Phil?" He starts, but returns her glance openly. "To tell you the truth, I have come to confide in you--to ask you a favour." "Good," replies Erminie, who has heard many a confidence in her day. "Go on." "You know but little of my wife--she is young, quite a girl--very easily influenced." His words come shortly. He breathes hard. "I would tell _you_ what I could not say to any other creature. It is early days, and we have begun to quarrel. She has made great friends with a frivolous widow--a woman next door--whom I warned her against from the first. I have done all in my power to stop the intimacy, but protestations only appear to strengthen it. This woman has got Eleanor entirely under her thumb, she is like soft clay in her hands. I thought I could mould my wife, who was utterly unformed, a little country farm girl. But Giddy Mounteagle has proved stronger, cleverer than I. Perhaps her method is easier to follow, perhaps I have misunderstood Eleanor from the first. Day by day she drifts farther from me, and yet, _if_ such a thing were possible, I love her more." He rises and leans his head on his arms over the mantel-border. "Help me, Erminie; you might do so much." "How?" "Come and stay with us--use _your_ influence with Eleanor."