made up a bed for you in the large spare room. It is thoroughly
aired.' She came softly in, hastened over to a closed work-table
that stood under the curtains, and opened it.

Lawford watched her, utterly expressionless, utterly motionless.
He opened his mouth and shut it again, still watching his wife as
she stooped with ridiculously too busy fingers, searching through
her coloured silks.

Again he opened his mouth. 'Yes,' he said, and stalked slowly
towards the door. But there he paused. 'God knows,' he said,
strangely and meekly, 'I am sorry, sorry for all this. You will
forgive me, Sheila?'

She looked up swiftly. 'It's very tiresome, I can't find
anywhere,' she murmured, 'I can't find anywhere the--the little
red box key.'

Lawford's cheek turned more sallow than ever. 'You are only
pretending to look for it,' he said, 'to try me. We both know
perfectly well the lock is broken. Ada broke it.'

Sheila let fall the lid; and yet for a while her eyes roved over
it as if in violent search for something. Then she turned: 'I am
so very glad the vicar was at home,' she said brightly. 'And
mind, mind you rest, Arthur. There's nothing so bad but it might
be worse.... Oh, I can't, I can't bear it!' She sat down in the
chair and huddled her face between her hands, sobbing on and on,
without a tear.