'No! And his name is Markynter.'
The palm-leaf did not move. Presently, however, Mrs. Wylie laid it aside, and asked for some more tea.
'Well,' she said cheerily, 'I suppose we must make the best of a very bad bargain. What do you propose to do next?'
In the most natural and confiding way imaginable, Mrs. Huston looked up towards her sister, who was still standing. There was an almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders.
'Brenda,' she answered, 'says that I must run away and hide in some small village, which is not exactly a cheerful prospect.'
'It would hardly do,' said Brenda, as if in defence of her own theory, 'to go down to Brighton and stay at the Bedford Hotel, for instance.'
'If,' added Mrs. Wylie in the same tone, 'you really want to avoid your husband, you must certainly hide; but I do not see what you can gain by such a proceeding. It can never be permanent, and you will soon get tired of chasing each other round England.'
'Perhaps he will get tired of it first.'
'If he does, what will your position be? Somewhat ambiguous, I imagine.'
'It cannot be worse than it is at present.'