men on the face of the earth.  He would tell you he had the finest place in the world, and the finest pictures in the world, yet these things did not save him from unhappiness.  He could not understand that happiness is attained through renunciation.  He had never renounced anything, and so his life was a mere triviality.  The clearness of her vision surprised her; she paused a moment and then continued.  He must always be amused, he could not bear to be alone.  Distraction, distraction, distraction was his one cry.  She had to combat the spectre of boredom and save the man from himself.  Hitherto she had done this, it had been her pleasure, but if she married him it would become her mission, her duty, her life.  Could she undertake it?  Her heart sank.  He had worn her out, she could do no more.  She grew frightened, life seemed too much for her; and then she bit her lips, and vowed that whatever it cost her she would marry him if he wished her to....  If she did not mean to take the consequences, she ought not to have gone away with him.  To be Owen’s wife was perchance her mission.

It had always been arranged that they were to be married when she left the stage.  But he wished her to remain on the stage till she had played Kundry; but if she were going to leave the stage she did not care to delay, nor did she care for the part of Kundry.  The meaning of the part escaped her....  So the time had come for her to offer herself to Owen.  Whatever his desires might be, his honour would force him to say Yes.  So there was no escape.  Fate had decreed it so, she was to be his wife; but one thing she need not endure, and that was unnecessary suspense.  She had decided to go to Lady Ascott’s ball....  But she wouldn’t see him there.  He was kept indoors by the gout.  He had written asking her to come and pass the evening with him....  She might call to see him on her way to the ball; yes, that is what she would do, and she sat down at once and wrote a note.

And she laughed and talked during dinner, and was surprised when Lady Duckle remarked how pale and ill she was looking, for she thought she was making a fine outward show of high spirits.  She and Lady Duckle were dining alone, and she tried to devise a plan for going to Berkeley Square without taking Lady Duckle into her confidence.  The horrible scene with Owen flitted before her eyes while talking of other things.  And so the evening dragged itself out in the drawing-room.

“Olive, I want to make a call before going to Lady Ascott’s; I will send the carriage back for you.”

“But we need not get there until a quarter to one.  There will be plenty of time.”

“Very well,” Evelyn answered, as unconcernedly as she could.  “I’ll be here a little after twelve.”

In the carriage she remembered that she was going to the same house to tell him that she would be his wife as she had gone to tell him she would be his mistress.

“Sir Owen has been very bad to-day, miss,” the butler said in a confidential undertone.  “It has taken him again in his right toe;” and he leaned forward to open the door of Owen’s private sitting-room.