Chris pressed on, ignoring the thrust.  “Besides, Trevor does not need, does not so much as wish to be told of every little incident that ever happened in my life.  He prefers to trust me.”

“And have you never abused his confidence?” asked Aunt Philippa.

It was inevitable.  She flinched ever so slightly, but she covered it with instant defiance.  “What do you mean, Aunt Philippa?”

Aunt Philippa made no direct reply.  She knew the value of insinuation in such a battle as this.  “Ask yourself that question,” she said impressively.

It might have provided a way of escape, at least temporarily, but Chris was too far goaded to see it.  “Tell me what you mean,” she said.

Aunt Philippa’s thin lips smiled ironically.  “My dear, are you really so blind, or is deceit the very air you breathe?  Can you look me in the face and assure me that nothing has ever passed between you and your husband’s secretary of which you would not wish him to know?”

That went home, straight to her quivering heart.  For a moment the pain of it held her dumb.  Then, with a gasp, she turned from the pitiless eyes that watched her.

“Oh, how dare you, Aunt Philippa!  How dare you!” she cried in impotence.

“I trust that I am not afraid to do my duty,” said Aunt Philippa, very gravely.

But Chris had already turned, completely routed, and fled from the scene of her defeat; nor did she pause until she had reached her haven at the top of the house, where, like a wounded bird, she crouched down in solitude and so remained for a long, long time.

Not till the afternoon was far advanced did any measure of comfort come to her stricken soul, and then at last she remembered that, after all, she was comparatively safe.  Her husband’s trust was still hers, implicit and unwavering, and she knew that he would not so much as notice a single hint from Aunt Philippa, however adroitly offered.  That was her one and only safeguard, and as she realized it the bitterness of her heart gave place to a sudden burst of anguished shame.  What had she ever done to deserve the generous, unquestioning trust he thus reposed in her?  Nothing—­less than nothing!

CHAPTER II

FIREWORKS

When Chris emerged from her seclusion, she found that her aunt had decided to suspend hostilities, and to treat her with the majestic condescension of the conqueror.  It was something of a relief, for Chris was not fashioned upon fighting lines, and long-sustained animosity was beyond her.  She was thankful for Noel’s plans for the evening’s entertainment as a topic of conversation, even though Aunt Philippa openly disapproved of the enterprise.  She had begun feverishly to count the hours to her aunt’s departure.  She would not feel really safe, reassure herself how she might, until she was finally gone.