'Never in the world, Sir David. How can she be used to it?'
'Why, my dear sir, when a woman's fond!—And don't they mostly handle the long bow themselves? They are connoisseurs—they have a sympathy for a fellow-performer.'
Lyon was silent a moment; he had no ground for denying that Mrs. Capadose was attached to her husband. But after a little he rejoined: 'Oh, not this one! I knew her years ago—before her marriage; knew her well and admired her. She was as clear as a bell.'
'I like her very much,' Sir David said, 'but I have seen her back him up.'
Lyon considered Sir David for a moment, not in the light of a model. 'Are you very sure?'
The old man hesitated; then he answered, smiling, 'You're in love with her.'
'Very likely. God knows I used to be!'
'She must help him out—she can't expose him.'
'She can hold her tongue,' Lyon remarked.
'Well, before you probably she will.'
'That's what I am curious to see.' And Lyon added, privately, 'Mercy on us, what he must have made of her!' He kept this reflection to himself, for he considered that he had sufficiently betrayed his state of mind with regard to Mrs. Capadose. None the less it occupied him now immensely, the question of how such a woman would arrange herself in such a predicament. He watched her with an interest deeply quickened when he mingled with the company; he had had his own troubles in life, but he had rarely been so anxious about anything as he was now to see what the loyalty of a wife and the
