"And I," said Regina, with a sigh which, though quickly suppressed, was full of meaning. Somehow, she could not sleep that night; during the day some of her most cherished ideals had been ruthlessly torn up by the roots. Never in all her life before had she had even so much as a suspicion of her noble Alfred's matrimonial integrity, and she had come to see flaws in her own life and rents in her own robes. Indeed, had she not been, as it were, aroused out of sleep, the regeneration of women had been like to cost her very dear. But, God be thanked! she had been awakened in time, and in future she would leave the great question of womanhood to look after itself, and she would devote her time and thought and the use of her astute brain to regaining her husband's love. "Think," her thoughts ran, "think--Maudie is married, Julia is young and beautiful, and fascinating to the opposite sex, you cannot hope to keep her long in the home nest; think what your life would be living alone with a husband whose heart was wholly gone from you."
There is occasionally a time in our life which proves a veritable oasis in a desert of doubt and suspicion.
During the month which they spent in the fascinating little town on the northern coast, Regina lived a very _dolce far niente_ kind of life. Her anxieties as to the hussy were, for a time, lulled to sleep. They stayed at a comfortable hotel on the front, had rooms overlooking that wonderful stretch of sea which is one of the great charms of Dieppe, and they did themselves remarkably well; that is to say, they went without nothing that would give them pleasure. As soon as they arrived and were settled down, Alfred Whittaker went to the extravagance of engaging a motor car for their exclusive use during their stay. It was a very comfortable car, and held six persons in addition to the chauffeur, and almost every day they made excursions into the green heart of the quiet country, lunching at some snug French hostelry on homely but delicious fare. Personally, I have always thought that one of the chief reasons why art and sentiment nourish and thrive apace in sunny France is because the people live upon food so much less gross than is the case with ourselves. In the poorest little inn on the other side of the Channel one is always sure of an excellent soup, a delicious omelette, bread and butter that are beyond reproach, and a sound and excellent drink, be it of red wine or only of homely cider. To Regina, the freedom from household cares, which she detested, and from all questions of orderings and caterings, made this quite the most charming holiday of her whole life. She was happy, too, that Julia was happy, that Julia made many friends of her own age and condition, that she, as the phrase goes, danced her feet off four nights a week, and was able to enter with zest and enjoyment into the young life of the place. As for Alfred Whittaker himself, he so thoroughly enjoyed the rest and change, seemed so happy and contented with himself and everything around him, that sometimes Regina caught herself wondering if she had been entirely mistaken in imagining that there was, after all, a hussy in the background. He was loud in his expressions of satisfaction in the new ground which they had broken. How they ever came to go year after year to a dull English watering-place, and never thought of coming abroad, was really beyond him.