He always posted his letters himself; and he believed that neither his landlady nor anybody else suspected him of a wife.
But to-day he had carried things too far--and a guilty discomfort weighed upon him.

What was to be done?
Should he on the first opportunity set himself right with Lord Findon--speak easily and unexpectedly of Phoebe and the child?
Clearly what would have been simplicity itself at first was now an awkwardness.

Lord Findon would be puzzled--chilled.

He would suppose there was something to be ashamed of--some skeleton in the cupboard.

And especially would he take it ill that Fenwick had allowed him to run on with his diatribes against matrimony as though he were talking to a bachelor.