While he was casting about in his mind what course to take, chance
favored him.

Four days later, when he was strolling round the rooms in Burlington
House, he saw not far in front of him the tall and restless figure of
a woman. She was alone. For some time Malling did not recognize her.
She did not turn sufficiently for him to see her face, and her almost
feverish movements, though they attracted and fixed his attention, did
not strike him as familiar. His thought of her, as he slowly followed
in the direction she was taking, was, "What a difficult woman that would
be to live with!" For the hands were never still; the gait was uneasy;
nervousness, almost a sort of pitiful irritation, seemed expressed by her
every movement.

In the big room this woman paused before the picture of the year, which
happened to be a very bad one, and Malling, coming up, at last recognized
her as Lady Sophia Harding.

He took off his hat. She seemed startled, but greeted him pleasantly, and
entered into a discussion of the demerits which fascinate the crowd.

"You prefer seeing pictures alone, perhaps?" said Malling, presently.

"Indeed I don't," she answered. "I was coming to-day with my husband. We
drove up together. But at the last moment he thought he remembered
something,--some appointment with Mr. Chichester,--and left me."

There were irony and bitterness in her voice.

"He said he'd come back and meet me in the tea-room presently," she