Volume Two—Chapter Three.
Lady Millet’s Choice.
Rich men are not always to be congratulated, especially if they are good-looking and weak. Frank Morrison was both, and in early days after her wedding Renée found that a loveless marriage was not all bliss.
But she had marked out her own course, and, with the hopefulness of youth, she often sat alone, thinking that she would win her husband entirely to herself, and that when he fully saw her devotion he would give up acquaintances whom he must have known before they were wed.
One Sunday evening, and she was seated waiting, when she heard a well-known step upon the stairs.
It was quite dinner-time, and she was waiting, dressed, for her husband’s return, looking sad, but very sweet and self-possessed; and as he entered the room she ran to meet him, put her arms round his neck and kissed him on lips that had been caressing others not an hour before.
“Ah, Renée,” he said quietly, “waiting dinner? So sorry, little woman. I could not get near a telegraph office, or I would have sent and told you.”
“I have not waited long, Frank,” she said cheerfully. “I am so glad you have come back.”