you so.”  But I had to think of you, and that gave me strength.  What could I do?  Truth alone is no good against the world; but truth with a handle to its name and with a million of money —­ that’s a different thing.  It was life or death, dear boy, and I had to fight for it.  So I went to Lady Isobel Barker.  I only knew her by name.  She, of course, knew me by name, and cold enough she was when I got admitted to her.  But half an hour’s talk —­ and I had won!  She was my friend; she would stand by me, and all the world should know it.  Stay!  The worst is over, but there’s still a good deal to be done.  It has to be known that my friends are your friends also.  There was a paragraph in the papers yesterday, saying that you and your wife were going as Lady Isobel’s guests to that house of hers.  She did that for me.  And now, do you think we ought to seem even seem —­ to slight her kindness?’ Hugh was turning about, chafing impotently.

‘Then you mean to go on here?’ he asked, with half-appealing, half-resentful eyes.

Sibyl made a gesture of entreaty.

‘What other life is there for me?  What would you have me do?’

His arms fell; for a minute he sat with head hanging, his eyes fixed and blank like those of a drunken man.  Then, as if goaded suddenly ——­

‘Who are these enemies you talk about?’

Sibyl’s look wandered; her lips moved in hesitancy.

‘Name one of them.’

‘Isn’t it better to try to forget them?’

’Women, I suppose? —­ You say you haven’t seen Rolfe.  Has he heard this talk about you, do you think?’

‘No doubt,’ she answered distantly.  ‘Isn’t he coming to see you?’

’If he saw that in the papers, he won’t think I am here.  But I should like to see him.  I’ve a good mind to telegraph —­ but I don’t know his address.  Yes —­ I forgot —­ there’s a letter from him somewhere.’

‘I know the address,’ said Sibyl, in the same tone of reserve.

‘I should like to see old Rolfe —­ poor old Rolfe.’

‘Why do you pity him?’

’Oh —­ only a way of speaking.  You know the address, you say?  Has he written?  Has she written?’

‘Oh no!’

‘You haven’t seen her?’

Sibyl evaded the question.

‘Doesn’t it seem to you rather strange,’ she said, ’that the Rolfes should keep away from me —­ never call or write?’

Hugh’s lips were set.  When she repeated her inquiry more urgently, he gave a peevish answer.

’You cared very little about her at the last.  And Rolfe —­ when a man marries —­ No, I won’t see him just yet.  I’ll write to him when we’re away.’

‘It wouldn’t astonish you’ —­ Sibyl spoke in a thin voice, not quite under her control —­ ’if you heard that Mrs. Rolfe had done her best and her worst against me?’

‘She?  Against you?’