"They are bound to go on meeting. And now at every turn there will be eyes to watch and lips to sneer. If I had my way, I'd have the people who spread lies like these stand naked in a public pillory. There's a jealous woman or women behind it, of course. Trace any scandal to its source, and you will find that the one man or woman from whom it originally emanated was the one who would benefit by its being spread. In a question of work, you will find it is the woman beaten in her own field by a younger woman, socially superior, who starts the scandal; in love, the vanquished rival. Scandal can't create itself; there's always at least one pair of lying lips to bring it into being."

"What if the man were to—but then he never would——" Brand faltered.

Lady Wereminster threw up her hands with a cry.

"You have it," she said; "there's only one way he can stop it. He must marry. People must think that she has been his confidante throughout—has known about it from the first. She's not the kind of woman to stand up against a stab in the dark like this. It would kill her!"

"But is Farquharson likely to marry? Is there any one with whom his name is associated?" said Brand doubtfully. "He never seemed to me a marrying man."

"That's not the question," said Lady Wereminster decidedly. "The whole point is that he must save her. Good Heavens, that Evelyn should be the talk of any club!" She rang the bell violently. "Give me the paper. I shall go and see Mr. Farquharson myself at once, and put the matter straight before him. He owes everything to Evelyn, and he's brought this upon her. They say it's always the woman who goes to the wall in these matters. Well, she shan't in this case, if I have to take the man to the church myself. Good-bye, and thank you."

She extended a hurried forefinger and waved him to the door. He bowed, well satisfied.

"Order the victoria at once, James; I'm in a hurry."

Taking out her glasses, Lady Wereminster re-read the paragraph line by line.

"Oh, if I had but seen Evelyn lately! But meeting Miss Beadon when I ran in the other morning stopped my going for a week. 'Sussex'—and 'politics'!—Oh, Evelyn, Evelyn!"