"You must never doubt it," he repeated roughly.

His contrition was a strange thing--if it were contrition. And love
--woman's love--is sometimes the counsellor of wisdom. Her sole reproach
was to return his kiss.

Presently she chose a book, and he read to her.




CHAPTER XV

THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY

One morning, as he gathered up his mail, Chiltern left lying on the
breakfast table a printed circular, an appeal from the trustees of the
Grenoble Hospital. As Honora read it she remembered that this institution
had been the favourite charity of his mother; and that Mrs. Chiltern, at
her death, had bequeathed an endowment which at the time had been ample.
But Grenoble having grown since then, the deficit for this year was
something under two thousand dollars, and in a lower corner was a request
that contributions be sent to Mrs. Israel Simpson.

With the circular in her hand, Honora went thoughtfully up the stairs to
her sitting-room. The month was February, the day overcast and muggy, and
she stood for a while apparently watching the holes made in the snow by
the steady drip from the cap of the garden wall. What she really saw was
the face of Mrs. Israel Simpson, a face that had haunted her these many
months. For Mrs. Simpson had gradually grown, in Honora's mind, to typify