As he read, she felt the anger rise within him, she saw it in his eyes fixed upon the sheet, and the sense of fear, of irreparable loss, that had come over her as she had sat alone awaiting him, deepened.  And yet, long expected verdicts are sometimes received in a spirit of recklessness:  He finished the letter, and flung it in her lap.

“Read it,” he said.

“Oh, Hugh!” she protested tremulously.  “Perhaps—­perhaps I’d better not.”  He laughed, and that frightened her the more.  It was the laugh, she was sure, of the other man she had not known.

“I’ve always suspected that Cecil was a fool—­now I’m sure of it.  Read it!” he repeated, in a note of command that went oddly with his next sentence; “You will find that it is only ridiculous.”

This assurance of the comedy it contained, however, did not serve to fortify her misgivings.  It was written from a club.

“Dear Hugh:  Herewith a few letters for the magnum opus which I have extracted from Aunt Agatha, Judge Gaines, and others, and to send you my humble congratulations.  By George, my boy, you have dashed off with a prize, and no mistake.  I’ve never made any secret, you know, of my admiration for Honora—­I hope I may call her so now.  And I just thought I’d tell you you could count on me for a friend at court.  Not that I’m any use now, old boy.  I’ll have to be frank with you—­I always was.  Discreet silence, and all that sort of thing:  as much as my head is worth to open my mouth.  But I had an idea it would be an act of friendship to let you know how things stand.  Let time and works speak, and Cecil will give the thing a push at the proper moment.  I understand from one of the intellectual journals I read that you have gone in for simple life and scientific farming.  A deuced canny move.  And for the love of heaven, old man, keep it up for a while, anyhow.  I know it’s difficult, but keep it up.  I speak as a friend.

“They received your letters all right, announcing your marriage.  You always enjoyed a row—­I wish you could have been on hand to see and hear this one.  It was no place for a man of peace, and I spent two nights at the club.  I’ve never made any secret, you know, of the fact that I think the Pendleton connection hide-bound.  And you understand Bessie—­there’s no good of my explaining her.  You’d have thought divorce a brand-new invention of the devil, instead of a comparatively old institution.  And if you don’t mind my saying so, my boy, you took this fence a bit on the run, the way you do everything.

“The fact is, divorce is going out of fashion.  Maybe it’s because the Pendleton-Grenfell element have always set their patrician faces against it; maybe its been a bit overdone.  Most people who have tried it have discovered that the fire is no better than the frying- pan—­both hot as soon as they warm up.  Of course, old boy, there’s nothing personal in this.  Sit tight, and stick to the simple life—­ that’s your game as I see it.  No news—­I’ve never known things to be so quiet.  Jerry won over two thousand night before last—­he made it no trumps in his own hand four times running.

“Yours,