"Only the last number of the Horoscope. I thought I'd left it on
this table." He said nothing, and she went on: "You haven't seen
it?"

"No," he returned coldly. The magazine was locked in his desk.

His wife had moved to the mantel-piece. She stood facing him and
as he looked up he met her tentative gaze. "I was reading an
article in it--a review of Mrs. Aubyn's letters," she added,
slowly, with her deep, deliberate blush.

Glennard stooped to toss his cigar into the fire. He felt a
savage wish that she would not speak the other woman's name;
nothing else seemed to matter. "You seem to do a lot of reading,"
he said.

She still earnestly confronted him. "I was keeping this for you--
I thought it might interest you," she said, with an air of gentle
insistence.

He stood up and turned away. He was sure she knew that he had
taken the review and he felt that he was beginning to hate her
again.

"I haven't time for such things," he said, indifferently. As he
moved to the door he heard her take a precipitate step forward;
then she paused and sank without speaking into the chair from
which he had risen.