In that one hour the "muddy vesture" of common feeling and desire that closed in his manhood had taken fire and burnt to a pure flame, fusing, so it seemed, body and soul.

He had not thought of it for years, but now that he was made to think of it, the old thrill returned--a memory of something heavenly, ecstatic, far transcending the common hours and the common earth.
The next moment he had thrown the recollection angrily from him.
Stooping to his wife, he kissed her warmly.

"Look here, Daphne! I wish you'd let that woman alone! Have I ever looked at anyone but you, old girl, since that day at Mount Vernon ?" Daphne let him hold her close: but all the time, thoughts--ugly thoughts--like "little mice stole in and out." The notion of Roger and that woman, in the past, engaged--always together, in each other's arms, tormented her unendurably.
* * * * * She did not, however, say a word to Lady Barnes on the subject.

The morning following Mrs.Fairmile's visit that lady began a rather awkward explanation of Chloe Fairmile's place in the family history, and of the reasons for Roger's silence and her own.

Daphne took it apparently with complete indifference, and managed to cut it short in the middle.
Nevertheless she brooded over the whole business; and her resentment showed itself, first of all, in a more and more drastic treatment of Heston, its pictures, decorations and appointments.