She looked over her shoulder, but Wenna was not to be seen.

"I ... I saw Wenna," she said. "She must have followed you."

"That old horror!"

"She will tell Caroline that she has seen us together."

"What of it? How could I refuse to escort you and your friends?"

"I don't like her. She makes trouble. She hates me."

"She hates me too. She makes no secret of it. She clings to Caroline like a leech and snarls at me like a bulldog."

"I am frightened of her."

"You? Frightened of an old woman ... a servant!"

"After to-day you must not come to see me any more."

"Let 'after to-day' take care of itself."

They stepped into the hall of the little house. It was in process of being prettily furnished, and Lucie went from room to room in delight, calling attention to the carpet which had been delivered and laid in the drawing-room, asking them to admire the ormolu mirror—Madam Fenella's advance wedding present.

But looking into the mirror, Melisande seemed to see Venna's brooding face looking at her threateningly. She felt that Wenna

228 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS

had followed her, watched her, seen this love of hers for Caroline's husband trembling on the edge of surrender.

Then she knew that this must be her last meeting with Fermor.

TWO

>3o Lucie was married.

Fenella was pleased. Lucie's wealthy parent was pleased. Lucie was settled in life, and this was another triumph for Fenella. More ladies and gentlemen would put their bastard children in her charge, since the stigma attached to those children made it impossible for them to be launched through the usual channels. Fenella was doing such a useful service.

Fenella, the fabulous, the incredible and the mysterious, might be a product of an earlier era when life was lived in a more colourful manner; but the new era had scarcely begun, and Fenella would flourish for many a day as yet to come.

At the wedding the bridegroom's best man was Andrew Beddoes— a serious, quiet young man who selected Melisande for his attentions and stayed by her side during the drinking of toasts.

He was pleasant and courteous and seemed such a contrast to Fermor that she was glad of his company.

He talked of his friendship with the bridegroom, of their profession, of the luck of Francis Grey, who was as happy as a man could be.

Melisande liked him for his warm appreciation of Lucie's bridegroom.

He talked interestingly of his hopes for the future. Francis was going ahead. Mr. Beddoes was certain that he would succeed with Lucie to help him. In such a profession a man needed a wife, and a wife like Lucie could help so much. There was a great deal of entertaining to be done. Lucie was so poised, so elegant and so modest, and yet completely confident.

"You speak as though you are in love with Lucie yourself," said Melisande.

"No," he said gravely, "not with Lucie." He smiled and said how kind Melisande was to listen to him.

"But I am so interested. I hope you will be as lucky as Francis Grey."

"I hope that too," he said.

After the wedding she saw more and more of Andrew Beddoes.

He came often to the house, where Fenella welcomed him with special warmth. She allowed him to walk with Melisande in the Park with the newly married pair as chaperons.

There were times when they visited Lucie and her husband. Then the men would talk of Law, and Lucie would expound on the delights of housekeeping. It was a pleasant household, and it seemed to Melisande that Lucie had grown more attractive since she had married.

Fermor was angry when he saw what was happening.

Fenella did not deny him admittance to her house. She told herself that it would be good for Andrew to meet a little competition. She and Polly watched his sober courtship and the fiery one of Fermor with amusement and delight.

"It's dangerous," Polly said. "You never know what a young man like that will do. It wouldn't surprise me if he abducted Melly. He's quite capable of it."

"I know. I know," said Fenella. "But he'd have to get her consent."

"He might do that."

"But have you noticed she's changed? There was a time when I thought she was ready to fall into such a trap. But not now. Something's happened. She's wary. She may have discovered some of his wicked secrets. Depend upon it, he's got some."

"You think she'll take Andrew?"

"She's fundamentally a good girl, Polly. I ought to know. Don't I know girls? She longs for that bad one, and I believe he would have won, but she knows his wife. I feel sure that he's made some mistake somewhere. He must have made love to Melisande before his marriage. It's all very well to be bad, but badness must have some disguise. He's too blatantly wicked. That's his youth, I expect. He's too arrogant as yet and thinks he can get away with anything. He should have waited until after his marriage. Then he could have come along, very sad and dejected and told her his wife didn't understand him."

"That old tale?"

"All tales are new to those who haven't heard them before. He should have made her sorry for him. Melisande is generous; she's all heart. She'll act first and think afterwards. But in behaving as he did he made her think first. She's thinking now. She's thinking hard. And Lucie's working for Andrew Beddoes. Our dear Lucie has no imagination and, like all the unimaginative, she sees others as a pale shadow of herself. She's happy. She's got her home and lawyer. She's got what she wanted. Therefore she decides that's what Melisande must want."

"But something's happened to change Melly. It was that day I told

you about. They walked behind Lucie and me . . . like a pair of lovers. Then, as we went into the house, I noticed she was as white as a sheet. She's been different since then."

"It may be that his wife saw them together."

"What! Followed them! Ladies don't do such things, Madam dear."

"Jealous women do; and ladies can turn into jealous women, Poll, my dear. It was something like that, I'll warrant. Well, it will do Master Fermor good to know that he can't have it all his own way. He's like his father. Men used to be like that when I was young. Hard livers, hard drinkers, hard lovers. Times are changing, my insect. We're getting prim. I shouldn't have been able to start a salon like mine in these days. This young Gladstone is not our sort at all, and he's one of the men of the future. I don't like the virtuous, Polly. They pry. They see evil rather than good. No! Men are not like they used to be. But Fermor's a chip off the old block of mankind. He's of our time . . . not of the coming age. Times are changing a*ad we're sticking, Polly. We don't belong to the age that's just beginning.

'Wedlock is a hard pinching boot But fornication is an easy shoe.'

"Yes, some years ago that was printed quite casually in one of the papers, and it was not meant to -shock. It was the way we thought in those days. Most people think the same now; they always think the same; but we're entering a new age, Polly. We're becoming a people who wrap ourselves up in decorum and think that if we lay it on thick, what's underneath doesn't exist. But it's there just the same. It's there."

"So he's one of the old lot, is he?" said Polly. "He finds his wife a hard-pinching boot and he thinks our Melly would be an easy shoe. I don't doubt it. I don't doubt it at all. But our little girl took fright, and that's going to send her to Mr. Beddoes. I hope it's right. I only hope it's right."