mansion.  There was plenty of room for us, she said.  I did not know what to say.  I could not repay her kindness by going to her house under false colors, and letting her introduce me to her circle; and yet I could make no reasonable excuse.  At last, seeing that she attributed my refusals to pride, I told her plainly that if her friends were to learn my history by any accident they might not thank her for the introduction.  She was quite confounded; but she did not abate her kindness in the least, although my reservation of confidence in only giving her a hint of the truth, checked her advances.  You may think this an insane indiscretion on my part; but if you knew how often I have longed to stand up before everybody and proclaim who I am, and so get rid of the incubus of a perpetual falsehood, you would not be so much surprised.  There is one unspeakable blessing in American law.  It is quite easy to obtain a divorce.  One can get free without sacrificing everything except bare existence.  I do not care what anybody may argue to the contrary, our marriage laws are shameful.

“I shall expect to hear from you very soon.  If you desert me, Nelly, there is no such thing as friendship in the world.  I want particularly to know what Ned did—­as far as you know—­when he heard the news.  Is papa very angry?  And, above all, could you find out how Mrs. Douglas is?  I thought that Sholto would be uneasy and remorseful about her; but he does not really care half so much as I do.  How selfish I have been!  I used to flatter myself that I was thoughtful for others because I made a habit—­a detestably self-conscious habit—­of being considerate in trifles.  And in the end, after being so vain-gloriously attentive to the momentary comfort of all connected with me, I utterly forgot them and thought only of myself when their whole happiness was concerned.  I never knew how high I stood in my own estimation until I found how far the discovery of my folly and selfishness made me fall.  Tell me everything”.  I cannot write any more now.  My eyes are smarting:  I feel as if I had been writing for a whole month instead of two days.  Good-bye for three weeks.

“MARIAN.”

“P.S.  I have just learnt from a very severe criticism in one of the papers that Mdlle.  Lalage Virtue has failed here completely.  I fear from the wording that her unfortunate habit was apparent to the audience.”

CHAPTER XIX

On a cold afternoon in January, Sholto Douglas entered a hold in New York, and ascended to a room on the first floor.  Marian was sitting there, thinking, with a letter in her lap, She only looked up for a moment when he entered; and he plucked off his sealskin gloves and threw aside his overcoat in silence.

“It is an infernal day,” he said presently.

Marian sighed, and roused herself.  “The rooms look cheerless in winter without the open fireplaces we are accustomed to in England.”