He had lately divorced his wife, an unspeakable creature only too anxious for freedom.

Mordaunt came to see her every day in London, and every day during their absence they corresponded.

Her existence was wrapped up in Mordaunt Prince.

She traveled about with a suit-case (or so it appeared to Septimus) full of his photographs.

He had been the leading man at the theater where she had her last engagement, and had fallen madly, devotedly, passionately in love with her.