“It was his money, perhaps, that Mrs Roper got from Lupex the day before yesterday.  If so, it comes to the same thing as far as she is concerned, you know.”

“And what are we to do now?” said Amelia, as she went before her lover upstairs.  “Oh, John, what will become of me if ever you serve me in that way?  What should I do if you were to go off with another lady?”

“Lupex hasn’t gone off,” said Eames, who hardly knew what to say when the matter was brought before him with so closely personal a reference.

“But it’s the same thing,” said Amelia.  “Hearts is divided.  Hearts that have been joined together ought never to be divided; ought they?” And then she hung upon his arm just as they got to the drawing-room door.

“Hearts and darts are all my eye,” said Johnny.  “My belief is that a man had better never marry at all.  How d’you do, Mr Lupex?  Is anything the matter?”

Mr Lupex was seated on a chair in the middle of the room, and was leaning with his head over the back of it.  So despondent was he in his attitude that his head would have fallen off and rolled on to the floor, had it followed the course which its owner seemed to intend that it should take.  His hands hung down also along the back legs of the chair, till his fingers almost touched the ground, and altogether his appearance was pendent, drooping, and woebegone.  Miss Spruce was seated in one corner of the room, with her hands folded in her lap before her, and Mrs Roper was standing on the rug with a look of severe virtue on her brow,—­of virtue which, to judge by its appearance, was very severe.  Nor was its severity intended to be exercised solely against Mrs Lupex.  Mrs Roper was becoming very tired of Mr Lupex also, and would not have been unhappy if he also had run away,—­leaving behind him so much of his property as would have paid his bill.

Mr Lupex did not stir when first addressed by John Eames, but a certain convulsive movement was to be seen on the back of his head, indicating that this new arrival in the drawing-room had produced a fresh accession of agony.  The chair, too, quivered under him, and his fingers stretched themselves nearer to the ground and shook themselves.

“Mr Lupex, we’re going to dinner immediately,” said Mrs Roper.  “Mr Eames, where is your friend, Mr Cradell?”

“Upon my word I don’t know,” said Eames.

“But I know,” said Lupex, jumping up and standing at his full height, while he knocked down the chair which had lately supported him.  “The traitor to domestic bliss!  I know.  And wherever he is, he has that false woman in his arms.  Would he were here!” And as he expressed the last wish he went through a motion with his hands and arms which seemed intended to signify that if that unfortunate young man were in the company he would pull him in pieces and double him up, and pack him close, and then despatch his remains off, through infinite space, to the Prince of Darkness.  “Traitor,” he exclaimed, as he finished the process.  “False traitor!  Foul traitor!  And she too!” Then, as he thought of this softer side of the subject, he prepared himself to relapse again on to the chair.  Finding it on the ground he had to pick it up.  He did pick it up, and once more flung away his head over the back of it, and stretched his finger-nails almost down to the carpet.