all; so that the interloper in robbing him of his wife was related to
have secured not merely the _succès d'estime_ which accompanies such
enviable feats, but the unqualified gratitude of all married women and
most unmarried men.

There were, no doubt, redeeming qualities; Drake gave them full credit,
and perhaps more than they deserved. He noticed a glitter in the
dialogue, whether of foil or gold he refused to consider, and a lively
imagination in the interweaving of the incidents. But altogether the book
left with him a feeling of distaste, which was not allayed by the
perception that he himself was caricatured in the picture of befooled
husband, while Mallinson figured as the successful deceiver. After all,
he thought, Mallinson and he were friends, and he disliked the mere
imagining of such a relationship between them.

Drake summed up his impressions as his hansom turned into the Bayswater
Road. The day was just beginning to break; the stems of the trees
bordering the park were black bars against the pure, colourless light,
and their mingling foliage a frayed black ribbon stretched across the
sky. One might have conceived the picture the original of a black and
white drawing by a pre-Raphaelite artist.

Drake drew in a long breath of the keen, clear air.

'I am glad I asked him to bring Conway,' he said to himself.




CHAPTER II