More words from Jacky were necessary—words unequivocal, undenied.
"So that—" burst from her, and she went indoors. She stopped herself from saying more.
"So what?" asked Colonel Fussell, who was getting ready to start in the hall.
"We were saying—Henry and I were just having the fiercest argument, my point being—" Seizing his fur coat from a footman, she offered to help him on. He protested, and there was a playful little scene.
"No, let me do that," said Henry, following.
"Thanks so much! You see—he has forgiven me!"
The Colonel said gallantly: "I don't expect there's much to forgive.
He got into the car. The ladies followed him after an interval. Maids, courier, and heavier luggage had been sent on earlier by the branch-line. Still chattering, still thanking their host and patronizing their future hostess, the guests were borne away.
Then Margaret continued: "So that woman has been your mistress?"
"You put it with your usual delicacy," he replied.
"When, please?"
"Why?"
"When, please?"
"Ten years ago."
She left him without a word. For it was not her tragedy: it was Mrs. Wilcox's.
CHAPTER XXVII
Helen began to wonder why she had spent a matter of eight pounds in making some people ill and others angry. Now that the wave of excitement was ebbing, and had left her, Mr. Bast, and Mrs. Bast stranded for the night in a Shropshire hotel, she asked herself what forces
