When the bride heard that her mother and sister were about to escape to Baden-Baden, there rushed upon her a sudden hope that she might be able to accompany the flight.  She would not be parted from her husband, or at least not so parted that the world should suppose that they had quarrelled.  She would simply go away and make a long visit,—­a very long visit.  Two years ago a sojourn with her mother and Margaretta at Baden-Baden would not have offered to her much that was attractive; but now, in her eyes, such a life seemed to be a life in Paradise.  In truth, the tedium of those hours in Princess Royal Crescent had been very heavy.

But how could she contrive that it should be so?  That conversation with her mother had taken place on the day preceding the party, and Lady de Courcy had repeated it with dismay to Margaretta.

“Of course he would allow her an income,” Margaretta had coolly said.

“But, my dear, they have been married only ten weeks.”

“I don’t see why people are to be made absolutely wretched because they are married,” Margaretta answered.  “I don’t want to persuade her to leave him, but if what she says is true, it must be very uncomfortable.”

Crosbie had consented to go to the party in Portman Square, but had not greatly enjoyed himself on that festive occasion.  He had stood about moodily, speaking hardly a word to any one.  His whole aspect of life seemed to have been altered during the last few months.  It was here, in such spots as this that he had been used to find his glory.  On such occasions he had shone with peculiar light, making envious the hearts of many who watched the brilliance of his career as they stood around in dull quiescence.  But now no one in those rooms had been more dull, more silent, or less courted than he; and yet he was established there as the son-in-law of that noble house.  “Rather slow work; isn’t it?” Gazebee had said to him, having, after many efforts, succeeded in reaching his brother-in-law in a corner.  In answer to this Crosbie had only grunted.  “As for myself,” continued Gazebee, “I would a deal sooner be at home with my paper and slippers.  It seems to me these sort of gatherings don’t suit married men.”  Crosbie had again grunted, and had then escaped into another corner.

Crosbie and his wife went home together in a cab,—­speechless both of them.  Alexandrina hated cabs,—­but she had been plainly told that in such vehicles, and in such vehicles only, could she be allowed to travel.  On the following morning he was at the breakfast-table punctually by nine, but she did not make her appearance till after he had gone to his office.  Soon after that, however, she was away to her mother and her sister; but she was seated grimly in her drawing-room when he came in to see her, on his return to his house.  Having said some word which might be taken for a greeting, he was about to retire; but she stopped him with a request that he would speak to her.