The wonder of it was, too, that instead of being wounded, indignant and angry, as he had expected her to be, she betrayed a very friendly interest in Sheila, as though she herself had nothing whatever to do with the matter.

“You have undertaken a very difficult task, Mr. Ingram,” she said with a smile.  “I don’t think there are many married ladies in London who have a friend who would do as much for them.  And, to tell you the truth, both my mamma and myself have come to the same conclusion as yourself about Mr. Lavender.  It is really too bad, the way in which he allows that pretty young thing to remain at home, for I suppose she would go more into society if he were to coax her and persuade her.  We have done what we could in sending her invitations, in calling on her, and in begging Mr. Lavender to bring her with him.  But he has always some excuse for her, so that we never see her.  And yet I am sure he does not mean to give her pain; for he is very proud of her, and madly extravagant wherever she is concerned; and sometimes he takes sudden fits of trying to please her and be kind to her that are quite odd in their way.  Can you tell me what we should do?”

Ingram looked at her for a moment, and said gravely and slowly, “Before we talk any more about that I must clear my conscience.  I perceive that I have done you a wrong.  I came here prepared to accuse you of drawing away Mr. Lavender from his wife, of seeking amusement, and perhaps some social distinction, by keeping him continually dangling after you; and I meant to reproach you, or even threaten you, until you promised never to see him again.”

A quick flush, partly of shame and partly of annoyance, sprang to Mrs. Lorraine’s fair and pale face; but she answered calmly, “It is perhaps as well that you did not tell me this a few minutes ago.  May I ask what has led you to change your opinion of me, if it has changed?”

“Of course it has changed,” he said, promptly and emphatically.  “I can see that I did you a great injury, and I apologize for it, and beg your forgiveness.  But when you ask me what has led me to change my opinion, what am I to say?  Your manner, perhaps, more than what you have said has convinced me that I was wrong.”

“Perhaps you are again mistaken,” she said coldly:  “you get rapidly to conclusions.”

“The reproof is just,” he said.  “You are quite right.  I have made a blunder:  there is no mistake about it.”

“But do you think it was fair,” she said with some spirit—­“do you think it was fair to believe all this harm about a woman you had never seen?  Now, listen.  A hundred times I have begged Mr. Lavender to be more attentive to his wife—­not in these words, of course, but as directly as I could.  Mamma has given parties, made arrangements for visits, drives and all sorts of things, to tempt Mrs. Lavender to come to us, and all in vain.  Of course you can’t thrust yourself on any one like that.  Though mamma and myself like Mrs. Lavender very well, it is asking too much that we should encounter the humiliation of intermeddling.”