three years ago. I regarded him, apart from an all personal dislike, in the
light of a criminal and a disgrace to society. I came to this hotel, and I saw
my niece here. She told me What I have more briefly told you. She said that
the worry and the humiliation of it, and the strain of trying to keep up
appearances before the world, were telling upon her, and she asked for my
advice. I said I thought she should face him and demand an explanation of his
way of treating her. But she would not do that. She had always taken the line
of affecting not to notice the change in his demeanour, and nothing, I knew,
would persuade her to admit to him that she was injured, once pride had led
her into that course. Life is quite full, my dear Trent,' said Mr. Cupples
with a sigh, 'of these obstinate silences and cultivated misunderstandings.'

'Did she love him?' Trent enquired abruptly. Mr. Cupples did not reply at
once. 'Had she any love left for him?' Trent amended.

Mr. Cupples played with his teaspoon. 'I am bound to say,' he answered slowly,
'that I think not. But you must not misunderstand the woman, Trent. No power
on earth would have persuaded her to admit that to any one--even to herself,
perhaps--so long as she considered herself bound to him. And I gather that,
apart from this mysterious sulking of late, he had always been considerate and
generous.'

'You were saying that she refused to have it out with him.'

'She did,' replied Mr. Cupples. 'And I knew by experience that it was quite
useless to attempt to move a Domecq where the sense of dignity was involved.
So I thought it over carefully, and next day I watched my opportunity and met
Manderson as he passed by this hotel. I asked him to favour me with a few
minutes' conversation, and he stepped inside the gate down there. We had held
no communication of any kind since my niece's marriage, but he remembered me,