His boundless egotism had widened the chasm between Hylda and himself, which had been made on the day when she fell ill in London, with Lacey's letter in her hand.

It had not grown less in the weeks that followed.

He nursed a grievance which had, so far as he knew, no foundation in fact; he was vaguely jealous of a man--his brother--thousands of miles away; he was not certain how far Hylda had pierced the disguise of sincerity which he himself had always worn, or how far she understood him.

He thought that she shrank from what she had seen of his real self, much or little, and he was conscious of so many gifts and abilities and attractive personal qualities that he felt a sense of injury.

Yet what would his position be without her?
Suppose David should return and take the estates and titles, and suppose that she should close her hand upon her fortune and leave him, where would he be?
He thought of all this as he sat in his room at the Foreign Office and looked over St.James's Park, his day's work done.