Lady Tranmore laid a hand on her shoulder.

“We won’t talk any more about it now, Kitty, will we?”

Kitty’s pinched lips opened enough to emit the words: 

“Perhaps William had better understand—­”

“Goodness!” cried Ashe.  “Is it the Parhams?  Send them, Kitty, if you please, to ten thousand diables!  You won’t go to their dinner?  Well, don’t go!  Please yourself—­and hang the expense!  Come and give me some dinner—­there’s a dear.”

He bent over her and kissed her hair.

Lady Tranmore began to speak; then, with a mighty effort, restrained herself and began to look for her parasol.  Kitty did not move.  Lady Tranmore said a muffled good-bye and went.  And this time Margaret French insisted on going with her.

* * * * *

When Ashe returned to the drawing-room, he found his wife still in the same position, very pale and very wild.

“I have told your mother, William, what I intend to do about the Parhams.”

“Very well, dear.  Now she knows.”

“She says it will ruin your career.”

“Did she?  We’ll talk about that presently.  We have had a nasty scene in the House with the Irishmen, and I’m famished.  Go and change, there’s a dear.  Dinner’s just coming in.”

Kitty went reluctantly.  She came down in a white, flowing garment, with a small green wreath in her hair, which, together with the air of a storm which still enwrapped her, made her more maenad-like than ever.  Ashe took no notice, gave her a laughing account of what had passed in the House, and ate his dinner.

Afterwards, when they were alone, and he was just about to return to the House, she made a swift rush across the dining-room, and caught his coat with both hands.

“William, I can’t go to that dinner—­it would kill me!”

“How you repeat yourself, darling!” he said, with a smile.  “I suppose you’ll give Lady Parham decent notice.  What’ll you do?  Get a doctor’s certificate and go away?”

Kitty panted.  “Not at all.  I shall not tell her till an hour before.”

Ashe whistled.

“War?  I see.  Open war.  Very well.  Then we shall get to Venice for Easter.”

Kitty fell back.

“What do you mean?”

“Very plain, isn’t it?  But what does it matter?  Venice will be delightful, and there are plenty of good men to take my place.”

“Lord Parham would pass you over?”

“Not at all.  But I can’t work in public with a man whom I must cut in private.  It wouldn’t amuse me.  So if you’re decided, Kitty, write to Danieli’s for rooms.”

He lit his cigarette, and went out with a perfect nonchalance and good-temper.

* * * * *

Kitty was to have gone to a ball.  She countermanded her maid’s preparations, and sent the maid to bed.  In due time all the servants went to bed, the front door being left on the latch as usual for Ashe’s late return.  About midnight a little figure slipped into the child’s nursery.  The nurse was fast asleep.  Kitty sat beside the child, motionless, for an hour, and when Ashe let himself into the house about two o’clock he heard a little rustle in the hall, and there stood Kitty, waiting for him.