She broke off, gasping, almost fighting for breath, as the sudden rush and hoot of a car sounded at the gate.

Dick got to his feet.  His face was white.  “Are you expecting someone?” he said.

She clasped her hands tightly upon her breast to still her agitation.  “No, I’m not expecting—­anyone.  But—­but—­someone—­has come.”

“Evidently,” said Dick.

He turned towards the door, but in a moment she had sprung up, reaching it before him.  “Dick, if it is Saltash—­”

“Why should it be Saltash?” he said, with that in his voice that arrested her as compelling as if he had laid a hand upon her.

She faced him standing at the door, striving desperately for self-control.  “It may be Saltash,” she said, speaking more quietly.  “I saw him this morning, and he knows about the concert to-night.  Dick—­” she caught her breath involuntarily—­“Dick, why do you look at me like that?”

He made a curious jerky movement—­as if he strove against invisible bonds.  “So,” he said, “you are expecting him!”

She stiffened at his words.  “I have told you I am expecting no one, but that is no reason why Saltash should not come.”

For a second he looked at her with something that was near akin to contempt in his eyes, then suddenly an awful flame leapt up in them consuming all beside.  He took a swift step forward, and caught her between his hands.

“Juliet!” he said sternly.  “Stop this trifling!  What are you hiding from me?  What is it you were trying to tell me just now?”

She shrank from the fire of his look.  “I can’t tell you now, Dick.  It’s impossible.  Dick, you are hurting me!”

He spoke between his teeth.  “I’ve got to know!  Tell me now!”

Someone was knocking a careless tattoo upon the outer door.  Juliet turned her head sharply, but she kept her eyes upon her husband’s face.

“No, Dick,” she said after a moment, and with the words something of her customary quiet courage came back to her.  “I can’t—­possibly—­tell you now.  Do this one thing for me—­wait till to-night!”

“And then?” he said.

“I promise that you shall know—­everything—­then,” she said.  “Please—­give me till then!”

There was earnest entreaty in her voice, but she had subdued her agitation.  She met the scorching intensity of his look with eyes that never wavered, and in spite of himself he was swayed by her steadfastness.

“Very well,” he said, and set her free.  “Till to-night!”

She turned from him in silence and opened the door.  He stood motionless, with hands clenched at his sides, and watched her.

She went down the passage without haste and reached the outer door.  She opened it without fumbling, and in a moment Saltash’s debonair accents came to him.

“Ah, Juliette!  You are ready?  Has your good husband got back yet?  Ah, there you are, sir!  I have called to offer you and madame a lift.  I am going your way.”