The world into which Arthur was being so suddenly swept was strange to her, and in many ways antipathetic; but had she been happy and in spirits she could have grappled with it, or rather she could have lost herself in Arthur's success.

Had she not always been his slave?
But she was not happy! In their obscure days she had been Arthur's best friend, as well as his wife.

And it was the old comradeship which was failing her; encroached upon, filched from her, by other women; and especially by this exacting, absorbing woman, whose craze for Arthur Meadows's society was rapidly becoming an amusement and a scandal even to those well acquainted with her previous records of the same sort.
* * * * * The end of July arrived.

The Dunstables left town.

At a concert, for which she had herself sent them tickets, Lady Dunstable met Doris and her husband, the night before she departed.
"In ten days we shall expect you at Pitlochry," she said, smiling, to Arthur Meadows, as she swept past them in the corridor.