’Several people took it for granted that you were a professional violinist.  I heard one man saying, “How is it I don’t know her name?” Of course, your playing in an amateur is altogether exceptional.  Did it ever occur to you to come forward professionally?’

‘I thought of it once, before my marriage.’

’Ah! you really did?  I’m not at all surprised.  Would Mr. Rolfe look with disapproval ——?’

‘I hardly know,’ replied Alma, who was not mistress of herself, and paid little attention to what she was saying.  ’I dare say he wouldn’t mind much, one way or another.’

‘Indeed?’

The intimate significance of this word warned Alma that she had spoken too carelessly.  She hastened to add that, of course, in such a matter, her husband’s wish would be final, and that she had never thought of seeking his opinion on the subject.

’If ever you should take that step, my dear, it will mean a great triumph for you —­ oh! a great triumph!  And there is room just now for a lady violinist —­ don’t you think?  One has to take into account other things besides mastery of the instrument; with the public naturally, a beautiful face and a perfect figure ——­’

This was too much even for Alma’s greediness of flattery; she interrupted the smooth, warm adulation with impatient protest and told herself —­ though she did not quite know the reason —­ that after that day she would see less of Mrs. Strangeways.

The carriage stopped.  Glancing to either side, Alma saw that they were in a country road, its darkness broken at this spot by the rays of two gas-lamps which flanked a gateway.  The footman had alighted; the gate was thrown open; the carriage passed through on to a gravel drive.  Her nerves strung almost beyond endurance, and even now seeking courage to refuse to enter the house, Alma felt the vehicle turn on a sharp curve, and stop.

‘We shall not be more than a minute,’ said Mrs. Strangeways, just above her breath, as though she spoke with effort.

Involuntarily, Alma laid a hand on her arm

‘I will —­ wait for you here —­ please ——­’

‘But, dear, your promise!  Oh, you wouldn’t fail me?’

The carriage door had opened; the footman stood beside it.  Scarce knowing what she did, Alma stepped out after her companion, and in the same moment found a glow of light poured suddenly about her; it came from the entrance-hall of a house, where a female servant had presented herself.  A house of unusual construction, with pillars and a veranda; nothing more was observable by her dazzled and confused senses.  Mrs Strangeways said something to the servant; they entered, crossed a floor of smooth tiles, under electric light ruby-coloured by glass shades, and were led into a room illumined only by a fire until the servant turned on a soft radiance like that in the hall.

Mrs. Strangeways glanced about her as if surprised.