‘Very nobly, be sure of it.’

‘I can only thank her and reverence her.’

Mrs. Baxendale remained for a moment in thought.

‘Well,’ she resumed, ’you know that it is not my part to make useless scenes.  I began with my hardest words, and they must stand.  Beatrice will not die of a broken heart, happily, and if your wife is one half as noble you are indeed a fortunate man.  Perhaps we had better talk no more at present; it is possible you have acted rightly, and I must run no risk of saying unkind things.  Is your father informed?’

‘Not yet.’

‘You are leaving town?’

‘This afternoon.’

‘To go to a distance?’

‘No.  I shall be in town daily.’

‘You doubtless inform your father before you leave?’

‘I shall do so.’

‘Then we will say good-bye.’

Mrs. Baxendale gave her hand.  She did not smile, but just shook her head as she looked Wilfrid steadily in the face.

It was later in the afternoon when she called upon Mrs. Birks.  She was conducted to that lady’s boudoir, and there found Mr. Athel senior in colloquy with his sister.  The subject of the conversation was unmistakable.

‘You know?’ asked Mrs. Birks, with resignation, as soon as the door was closed behind the visitor.

‘I have come to talk it over with you.’

Mr. Athel was standing with his hands clasped behind him; he was rather redder in the face than usual, and had clearly been delivering himself of ample periods.

‘Really, Mrs. Baxendale,’ he began, ’I have a difficulty in expressing myself on the subject.  The affair is simply monstrous.  It indicates a form of insanity.  I—­uh—­I—­uh—­in truth I don’t know from what point to look at it.’

‘Where is Beatrice?’ Mrs. Birks asked.

‘She will stay with me for a day or two,’ replied Mrs. Baxendale.

‘How—­how is she?’ inquired Mr. Athel, sympathetically.

‘Upset, of course, but not seriously, I hope.’

‘Really,’ Mrs. Birks exclaimed, ’Wilfrid might have had some consideration for other people.  Hero are the friendships of a lifetime broken up on his account.’

‘I don’t know that that is exactly the point of view,’ remarked her brother, judicially.  ’One doesn’t expect such things to seriously weigh—­I mean, of course, when there is reason on the man’s side.  What distresses me is the personal recklessness of the step.’

‘Perhaps that is not so great as it appears,’ put in Mrs. Baxendale, quietly.

‘You defend him?’ exclaimed Mrs. Birks.

’I’m not sure that I should do so, but I want to explain how Beatrice regards it.’

‘She defends him?’ cried Mr. Athel.