‘Then I’ll say good-bye.’

He looked into her face, and saw how pretty and sweet it was, and felt sorry for her—­he did not know why.  Their hands held together a moment or two.

’There’s no—­no message I can deliver for you, Mr. Egremont?  I’m to be trusted—­I am, indeed.’

‘I’m very sure you are, Miss Tyrrell—­Oh, pardon me!’

‘No, no!  I shan’t forgive you.’  She was laughing, yet almost crying at the same time.  ’You must ask me to do something for you, in return for that.  How strange that did seem!  It was like having been dead and coming to life again, wasn’t it?’

’I have no message whatever for anybody, Mrs. Dalmaine; thank you very much.’

‘Good-bye, then.  No, no, don’t come down.  Good-bye!’

She drove back home.

She had been sitting for an hour in her boudoir, when Dalmaine came in.  He smiled, but looked rather grim for all that.  Seating himself opposite her, he asked: 

’Paula, what was your business in Great Russell Street this afternoon?’

She trembled, but returned his gaze scornfully.

‘So you followed me?’

’I followed you.  It is not exactly usual, I believe, for young married ladies to visit men in their rooms; if I have misunderstood the social rules in this matter, you will of course correct me.’

Mr. Dalmaine was to the core a politician.  He was fond of Paula in a way, but he had discovered since his marriage that she had a certain individuality very distinct from his own, and till this was crushed he could not be satisfied.  It was his home policy, at present, to crush Paula’s will.  He practised upon her the faculties which he would have liked to use in terrorising a people.  Since she had given up talking politics, her drawing-room had been full of people whom Dalmaine regarded with contempt—­mere butterflies of the season.  She had aggressively emphasised the difference between his social tastes and hers.  He bore with it temporarily, till he could elaborate a plan of campaign.  Now the plan had formed itself in most unhoped completeness, and he was happy.

‘What did you want with that fellow?’ he asked, coldly.

’Mr. Egremont is going to America, and I wanted to say good-bye to him.  He was my friend long before I knew you.’

She rose, and would have gone; but he stopped her with a gentle hand.

‘Paula, this is very unsatisfactory.’

‘What do you want?  What am I to do?’

’To sit down and listen.  As I have such very grave grounds for distrusting you, I can only pursue one course.  I must claim your entire obedience to certain commands I am now going to detail.  Refusal will, of course, drive me to the most painful extremities.’

‘What do you want?’

’To-morrow you were to give your last dinner-party.  You will at once send a notice to all your guests that you are ill and cannot receive them.’