For a time she received all she needed out of life, and she threw
herself into her husband's promotion-hunger; understanding it, because
she, too, wanted to reign, and it gave her an inexplicable feeling of
respect for him, for Clarice knew that had she been born a man, she,
too, would have worked and schemed and pushed herself out into the front
of the ranks. She combined with him as only an ambitious woman can
combine, and she supplied all he lacked. It filled her mind, and she
never awoke the jealousy that lay like a sleeping python in the heart of
Draycott Wilder. It was when they were in India that Clarice, for the
first time, lost her grip and allowed her senses to get the better of
her common sense, and she became for a brief time a woman with a very
troublesome heart. Hector Copplestone, a young man newly come to the
Indian Civil Service, was sent to their Punjaub station. He made Mrs.
Wilder realize her own charm, he made her terribly conscious that she
was older than him, he made her anxious and distracted and madly,
idiotically in love with him. She forgot that there were other things in
life, she put aside ambition for a stronger temptation, and she did not
care what Draycott thought or supposed.

No one ever knew what happened, but everyone guessed that Wilder had
made trouble. They left India under the same cloud of silence, and they
reappeared in Mangadone to outside eyes the same couple who had pulled
together for successful years of marriage; and if some whisper, for
whispers carry far in the East, came after them, no one regarded it, and
the Copplestone incident was considered permanently closed. Draycott
Wilder was the same silent man who was the despair of his dinner
partners, and Clarice had her old brilliancy and her old way of making
men pleased with themselves; and though some people, chiefly young
girls, described her as "hard," she represented a centre of attraction,