"Why not?" said Philip. "Come, be a good girl; when I have sold my invention, I will never think of anything but you and my painting. I shall install myself in the most sumptuous studio that ever inspired an artist. Forgive me my thirst for a little more wealth. I shall soon have quenched it for ever. You will help me, won't you?" "Once more, what is it you would have me to do?" "We are going to supper--you will take General Sabaroff's arm." "No, no, not that," said Dora, with an imploring look at Philip. "Yes, yes, you cannot refuse. You are the hostess and he the principal guest. I expect you to go down with him." Sabaroff had drawn near to them; Dora could refuse no longer. She bent her head and said to Philip-- "Very well." "Will your Excellency offer your arm to my wife?" Dora mastered her emotion, her weakness, and her indignation. Many eyes were upon her; not a moment's hesitation was possible. She lifted her head proudly, took the proffered arm, and went down to supper. XII THE HUSBAND, THE WIFE, AND THE OTHER After going through the unaccustomed and fatiguing function, which we have tried to describe in the two preceding chapters, Dora took a day or two's rest in the house. During this time of repose, which her husband had specially enjoined her to indulge in, she resolved to limit her social relations, and consecrate most of her time to her child, who was beginning to cause her some anxiety. Eva was not strong, and it became more and more evident from her frequent complaints that a delicacy of the throat was constitutional in the child. She, who up to this time passed her days playing in the open air, had now to be content with a sedate walk in the Park, which she could only take hatted, gloved, and accompanied by a servant. Good-bye to the romps and scampers on the lawn and the merry hours of delicious freedom she used to enjoy so much with her little friends. Children are only happy and gay where there is no atmosphere of restraint. Dora continued to take an interest in household matters, kept her house with scrupulous care and with economy, so as to avoid or, at any rate, retard the financial wreck which she believed to be ahead. She put into requisition all her house-wifely arts, learnt in the happy school of their early married life, and all the ingenious tastefulness of the artistic woman she was, in order that Philip should not discover that she had conceived a complete distaste for the existence which she was forced to lead, nor accuse her of trying to keep aloof from the life of fashionable society. The unhappy woman was wearied and worn by her secret struggles, and almost crazy at the thought that her husband's heart had ceased to beat for her. The more she thought of that which was going on, the wider the chasm which separated her from Philip appeared to grow.