Think over it yourself and let me know if you come to a solution, my dear." He rose and left the room before she could make any answer--before she could make an attempt to find out in what direction his thoughts regarding the departure of Herbert Courtland were moving.
She wondered if he had any suspicion in regard to Herbert and herself.
He was not a man given to suspicion, or at any rate, given to allowing whatever suspicion he may have felt, to be apparent.

He had allowed her to drive and to ride with Herbert Courtland during the four months they had been together, first at Egypt, then at Florence, Vienna, Munich, and Paris, and he could not have but seen that Herbert and she had a good many sympathies in common.

Not a word had been breathed, however, of a suspicion that they were more than good friends to each other.
(As a matter of fact, they had not been more than good friends to each other; but then some husbands are given to unworthy suspicions.) Could it be possible, she asked herself, that some people with nasty minds had suggested to him in Paris that she and Herbert were together a great deal in London, and that he had been led to make this sudden visit, this surprise visit to London, with a view of satisfying himself as to the truth of the nasty reports--the disgraceful calumnies which had reached his ears?
If he had done so, all that could be said was that he had been singularly unfortunate in regard to his visit.

"Unfortunate" was the word which was in her mind, though, of course _"fortunate"_ was the word which should have occurred to her.

It was certainly a fortunate result of his visit--that tableau in the drawing room of Mr.Ayrton: Ella and her dearest friend standing side by side, hand in hand, as he entered.
A surprise visit, it may have been, but assuredly the surprise was a pleasant one for the husband, if he had listened to the voice of calumny.
And then, after pondering upon this with a smiling face, her smile suddenly vanished.