"Forgive me for calling at this unconventional hour Mrs. Majendie."

Mrs. Majendie's silence implied that she could not forgive her for calling at any hour. Lady Cayley smiled inimitably.

"I wanted to find you at home."

"You did not give me your name Lady Cayley."

Their eyes crossed like swords before the duel.

"I didn't, Mrs. Majendie, _because_ I wanted to find you at home. I can't help being unconventional--"

Mrs. Majendie raised her eyebrows.

"It's my nature."

Mrs. Majendie dropped her eyelids, as much as to say that the nature of Lady Cayley did not interest her.

"--And I've come on a most unconventional errand."

"Do you mean an unpleasant one?"

"I'm afraid I do, rather. And it's just as unpleasant for me as it is for you. Have you any idea, Mrs. Majendie, why I've been obliged to come?

It'll make it easier for me if you have."

"I a.s.sure you I have none. I cannot conceive why you have come, nor how I can make anything easier for you."

"I think I mean it would have made it easier for you."

"For me?"

"Well--it would have spared you some painful explanations." Sarah felt herself sincere. She really desired to spare Mrs. Majendie. The part which she had rehea.r.s.ed with such ease in her own bedroom was impossible in Mrs. Majendie's drawing-room. She was charmed by the spirit of the place, constrained by its suggestion of fair observances, high decencies, and social suavities. She could not sit there and tell Mrs. Majendie that her husband had been unfaithful to her. You do not say these things. And so subdued was Sarah that she found a certain relief in the reflection that, by clearing herself, she would clear Majendie.

"I don't in the least know what you want to say to me," said Mrs.

Majendie. "But I would rather take everything for granted than have any explanations."

"If I thought you would take my innocence for granted--"

"Your innocence? I should be a bad judge of it, Lady Cayley."

"Quite so." Lady Cayley smiled again, and again inimitably. (It was extraordinary, the things _she_ took for granted.) "That's why I've come to explain."

"One moment. Perhaps I am mistaken. But, if you are referring to--to what happened in the past, there need be no explanation. I have put all that out of my mind now. I have heard that you, too, have left it far behind you; and I am willing to believe it. There is nothing more to be said."

There was such a sweetness and dignity in Mrs. Majendie's voice and manner that Lady Cayley was further moved to compete in dignity and sweetness. She suppressed the smile that ignored so much and took so much for granted.

"Unfortunately a great deal more _has_ been said. Your husband is an intimate friend of my sister, Mrs. Ransome, as of course you know."

Mrs. Majendie's face denied all knowledge of the intimacy.

"I might have met him at her house a hundred times, but, I a.s.sure you, Mrs. Majendie, that, since his marriage, I have not met him more than twice, anywhere. The first time was at the Hannays'. You were there.

You saw all that pa.s.sed between us."

"Well?"

"The second time was at the Hannays', too. Mrs. Hannay was with us all the time. What do you suppose he talked to me about? His child. He talked about nothing else."

"I suppose," said Mrs. Majendie coldly, "there was nothing else to talk about."

"No--but it was so dear and naf of him." She pondered on his navete with down-dropped eyes whose lids sheltered the irresponsibly hilarious blue.

"He talked about his child--your child--to _me_. I hadn't seen him for two years, and that's all he could talk about. _I_ had to sit and listen to _that_."

"It wouldn't hurt you, Lady Cayley."

"It didn't--and I'm sure the little girl is charming--only--it was so delicious of your husband, don't you see?"

Her face curled all over with its soft and sensual smile.

"If we'd been two babes unborn there couldn't have been a more innocent conversation."

"Well?"

"_Well_, since that night we haven't seen each other for more than five years. Ask him if it isn't true. Ask Mrs. Hannay--"

"Lady Cayley, I do not doubt your word--nor my husband's honour. I can't think why you're giving yourself all this trouble."

"Why, because they're saying _now_--"

Mrs. Majendie rose. "Excuse me, if you've only come to tell me what people are saying, it is useless. I never listen to what people say."

"It isn't likely they'd say it to you."

"Then why should _you_ say it to me?"

"Because it concerns my reputation."

"Forgive me, but--your reputation does not concern me."

"And how about your husband's reputation, Mrs. Majendie?"

"My husband's reputation can take care of itself."

"Not in Scale."

"There's no more scandal talked in Scale than in any other place. I never pay any attention to it."

"That's all very well--but you must defend yourself sometimes. And when it comes to saying that I've been living with Mr. Majendie in Scarby for the last three years--"