“Don’t be sad, dear,” she said after awhile. “I can look back on it all so calmly--as if it had happened in a prior state of existence. And so must you.” “Love is the god that works all healing,” he replied. And the sincerity of his faith comforted him. The object of Irene’s pity soon withdrew into the shadow of the box, and plunged into flippant and bitter dialogue with Mrs. Delamere. The newspaper account of the scandal gave her scope for much mordant criticism of Hugh and Irene. It was a savage pleasure to tear their reputation to shreds, heap on invective and opprobrium, invent past meannesses and dishonours and treacheries. “You seem to dislike him very much,” remarked Mrs. Delamere, smiling. “Who wouldn’t, considering his record of infamy?” replied Minna, her rich, deep voice turning, as it always did when she was angered, to harshness. The smile flickered inscrutably around Mrs. Delamere’s thin lips. “I don’t know,” she said. “I can forgive the woman. I should think most women with whom he has come in contact have been ready to throw themselves away upon him. He is a splendid looking animal.” “Do you think women are beasts like men?” “There’s not much to choose between them,” replied Mrs. Delamere. The last act began; Mrs. Delamere gave herself up to the stage. Minna leant on the edge of the box and brooded over the two figures side by side, just distinguishable in the chequered dimness of the stalls. When the piece was over, she hurried her companion out of the theatre, and parted from her at the door. A cab quickly took her to the Métropole. She went straight into her bedroom and ordered a small bottle of champagne and some biscuits, which she consumed while Justine aided her to undress. “Has Mademoiselle well amused herself?” asked Justine. “Don’t chatter in that irritating way,” said Minna snappishly. So Justine concluded her operations in silence, and retired at the earliest opportunity. Minna wrapped her dressing-gown around her and lay back in a chair, with the last half glass of champagne beside hen And gradually the sensuousness faded from her face, and her eyes grew haunted by trouble and her lips worked nervously. Thus she remained rigid, save for her lips and swelling bosom, for a long time. At last, in a vehement whisper: “Yes, I hate him,” she said. CHAPTER XXI For a while the sun of his happiness declined and the shadow of his danger rested upon Hugh. But presently it was noontide again, and, after the manner of men, he forgot the danger. The months passed and grew into years, and a wonderful joy came into Irene’s sky and lit, with a new worship, her love for Hugh. But Minna lived in the gloom of a disastrous life. Three years had passed.