door. His eyes were very full of sympathy as they followed the little figure of Mrs. Barnes from the room. When she had gone he sat down, pulling his grey moustache, and evidently meditating deeply.
'Poor little thing,' he said softly. Mr. Davison looked up from the pipe he was hastily lighting—he was glad the women were gone.
'Who?'
'That little Mrs. Barnes.'
'Why on earth is she to be pitied?'
'What a tragedy her life has been, and what a story for a frail little soul like hers to carry about.'
'And pray what is the story?' Mr. Davison laughed softly. 'Do tell us, for I was under the impression she was one of the happiest of women.'
Major Macdonald paused for a moment, then began to speak quietly.
'Well, I suppose I may tell it, as it was not told to me in confidence. I was sitting just here watching her as Mrs. Hayden read her manuscript.
'Somehow I seemed to see something very
