“Mr. Northway, I have been listening to a sad, sad story.”

“Yes, it is sad,” he muttered, feeling his inferiority to this soft-spoken woman, and moving his legs awkwardly.

“I must mention to you that my name is Mrs. Wade.  I have known Lilian since she came to live at Polterham—­only since then.  That’s a very short time ago, but we have seen a good deal of each other, and have become intimate friends.  I need not tell you that I never had the faintest suspicion of what I have just learnt.”

This was said certainly not in a voice of indignation but with a sadness which implied anything but approval.  Northway, after trying to hold his hat in a becoming way, placed it on the floor, clicking with his tongue the while and betraying much nervousness.

“You are of course aware,” pursued the lady, “that Mr. Denzil Quarrier is Liberal candidate for this borough?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Until to-day, he had every prospect of being elected.  It is a shocking thing—­I hardly know how to express myself about it.”

“If this gets known,” said Northway, “I suppose he has no chance?”

“How would it be possible to vote for a man who has outraged the law on which all social life is based?  He would retire immediately—­no doubt.”

Regarding this event as certain in any case, the listener merely nodded.

“That, I dare say, doesn’t interest you?”

“I take no part in politics.”

“And it is quite a matter of indifference to you whether Mr. Quarrier’s career is ruined or not?”

“I don’t see why I should think much about a man who has injured me as he has.”

“No,” conceded Mrs. Wade, sadly.  “I understand that you have nothing whatever in view but recovering your wife?”

“That’s all I want.”

“And yet, Mr. Northway, I’m sure you see how very difficult it will be for you to gain this end.”

She leaned towards him sympathetically.  Northway shuffled, sucked in his cheeks, and spoke in as civil a tone as he could command.

“There are difficulties, I know.  I don’t ask her to come at once and live with me.  I couldn’t expect that.  But I am determined she sha’n’t go back to Mr. Quarrier.  I have a right to forbid it.”

“Indeed—­abstractly speaking—­I think you have,” murmured Mrs. Wade, with a glance towards the door.  “But I grieve to tell you that there seems to me no possibility of preventing her return.”

“I shall have to use what means I can.  You say Mr. Quarrier wouldn’t care to have this made public just now.”

He knew (or imagined) that the threat was idle, but it seemed to him that Mrs. Wade, already favourably disposed, might be induced to counsel Lilian for the avoidance of a scandal at this moment.

“Mr. Northway,” replied the widow, “I almost think that he would care less for such a disclosure before this election than after it.”