“Oh, I don’t know what I was telling you—I don’t know what I was telling you. Oh, well, I know, I was telling you about dining her at the Trocadero. Yes, she was willing enough to have the settlement, she was willing enough to go back to her beloved France; she hated London and everything in it—didn’t know why she ever left sunny France. But like all Frenchwomen, she was a woman of business, and she didn’t mean to leave go her hold upon poor old Chamberlain unless her settlement was perfectly secure. My dear, if she had been a lawyer fifty times over she couldn’t have been sharper at her job.”
“I don’t blame her,” said Regina, “I never blame a woman for getting the better of a man.”
“Yes, I know, my dear, you always held that opinion. But the long and the short of it was that she would accept nothing but a definite settlement in Paris, and I can tell you, even when you come over with the money in your hand, it’s not such a simple matter as it would seem to arrange a bit of business in this land of liberty, equality and brotherhood. From the way these people have spun it out one would have thought that I was getting something out of them, instead of making an ample settlement on one of their countrywomen. And the funniest part of the whole thing has been that every one of them thinks that Chamberlain and I are one and the same person. Gad! You thought so too! My dear,” putting his hand on the papers again, “this is the final note; this will be signed this afternoon; I shall hand Madame Raumonier bank-notes for a hundred pounds, and then I shall wash my hands of her altogether for good and all.”
For a moment Regina did not speak, but applied her attention entirely to the very excellent bifteck on her plate. Then she looked up at her husband with penitent eyes.
“Alfred,” she said, “I really feel I ought to apologize to you.”
“Apologize?” said Alfred, “apologize? Nay, if any apology is needed it is from me to you for having apparently given you cause for uneasiness; but, thank God! Queenie, there is no need of apology on either side. There’s been a little misapprehension, but it’s all over now, and we are as much together again as we were when we set out on our honeymoon. Did it make you very miserable, Queenie?” He laid his hand on hers as he spoke, and Regina looked up at him with shining eyes.
“I’ve been so miserable, Alfred,” she said, “that I almost wished I could die, and I think I should have died or put myself out of the road—or something—if I hadn’t resolved to win you back at any cost.”
“But you are satisfied now?”
“Satisfied! Oh, I’m so happy—so happy. I’ll never let such a cloud come between us—next time I’ll tell you the very first suspicion that crosses my mind.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” said Alfred. “Poor old Chamberlain! he’s come to the end of his tether now.”