And as it was now past eleven o’clock Zara returned quickly back to Park Lane and was coming in at the door just as her husband was descending the stairs.

“You are up very early, Milady,” he said casually, and because of the servants in the hall she felt it would look better to follow him into the library.

Tristram was surprised at this and he longed to ask her where she had been, but she did not tell him; she just said,

“What time do we arrive at your uncle’s?  Is it five or six?”

“It only takes three hours.  We shall be in about five.  And, Zara, I want you to wear the sable coat.  I think it suits you better than the chinchilla you had when we left.”

A little pink came into her cheeks.  This was the first time he had ever spoken of her clothes; and to hide the sudden strange emotion she felt, she said coldly.

“Yes, I intended to.  I shall always hate that chinchilla coat.”

And he turned away to the window, stung again by her words which she had said unconsciously.  The chinchilla had been her conventional “going away” bridal finery.  That was, of course, why she hated the remembrance of it.

As soon as she had said the words she felt sorry.  What on earth made her so often wound him?  She did not know it was part of the same instinct of self-defense which had had to make up her whole attitude towards life.  Only this time it was unconsciously to hide and so defend the new emotion which was creeping into her heart.

He stayed with his back turned, looking out of the window; so, after waiting a moment, she went from the room.

At the station they found Jimmy Danvers, and a Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt with the latter’s sister, Miss Opie, and several men.  The rest of the party, including Emily and Mary, Jimmy told them, had gone down by the eleven o’clock train.

Both Mrs. Harcourt and her sister and, indeed, the whole company were Tristram’s old and intimate friends and they were so delighted to see him, and chaffed and were gay, and Zara watched, and saw that her uncle entered into the spirit of the fun in the saloon, and only she was a stranger and out in the cold.

As for Tristram, he seemed to become a different person to the stern, constrained creature of the past week, and he sat in a corner with Mrs. Harcourt, and bent over her and chaffed and whispered in her ear, and she—­Zara—­was left primly in one of the armchairs, a little aloof.  But such a provoking looking type of beauty as hers did not long leave the men of the party cold to her charms; and soon Jimmy Danvers joined her and a Colonel Lowerby, commonly known as “the Crow,” and she held a little court.  But to relax and be genial and unregal was so difficult for her, with the whole contrary training of all her miserable life.

Hitherto men and, indeed, often women were things to be kept at a distance, as in one way or another they were sure to bite!