"Perhaps I am looking for you," Venner said. He had quite recovered
himself by this time. "I was in the lobby just now, when I saw that
scoundrel, Fenwick, go out. He is not coming back for a day or two, I
understand."

"No," Vera said with accents of evident relief. "He is gone, but I don't
know where he is gone. He never tells me."

Just for a moment Venner looked somewhat sternly at his companion. Here
was an opportunity for an explanation too good to be lost.

"There is a little alcove at the end of the corridor," he said. "I see it
is full of ferns and flowers. In fact, the very place for a confidence.
Vera, whether you like it or not, I am going to have an explanation."

The girl shrank back, and every vestige of color faded from her face.
Yet at the same time, the pleading, imploring eyes which she turned upon
her companion's face were filled with the deepest affection. Badly as he
had been treated, Venner could not doubt for a moment the sincerity of
the woman who had become his wife. But he did not fail to realise that
few men would have put up with conduct like this, however much in love
they might have been. Therefore, the hand that he laid on Vera's arm was
strong and firm, and she made no resistance as he led her in the
direction of the little alcove.

"Now," he said. "Are you going to tell me why you left me so mysteriously
on our wedding day? You merely went to change your dress, and you never
returned. Am I to understand that at the very last moment you learned
something that made it absolutely necessary for us to part? Do you really
mean that?"