He made up his mind to say nothing about it. He had no conception then what this silence was to cost him, and how different all his future life might have been had he told his wife the truth that night.
Presently Valentine returned. Her face was flushed, and her eyes had an unquiet troubled expression. She had been to Lilias with a somewhat strange request.
"Lilias, I want you to promise me something, to ask no questions, but just like a kind and truthful sister to make me a faithful promise."
"You look strange, Valentine; what do you want me to promise?"
"Will you promise it?"
"If I can, I will promise, to please you; but I never make promises in the dark."
"Oh, there's Gerald's step, I must go. Lilias, I've a very particular reason, I cannot explain it to you. I want you not to tell Gerald, now or at any time, that we were at the Gaiety to-night."
"My dear Val, how queer! Why shouldn't poor Gerald know? And you look so strange. You are trembling."
"I am. I'm in desperate earnest. Will you promise?"
"Yes, yes, you silly child, if you set such store on an utterly ridiculous promise you shall have it. Only if I were you, Valentine, I wouldn't begin even to have such tiny little secrets as that from my husband. I wouldn't, Val; it isn't wise—it isn't really."