"I find an unforgiving temper in your charming lady," the doctor
declared. "It doesn't show itself on the surface, my dear fellow, but
there it is. Take a wise advantage of circumstances--say you will raise
no inconvenient objections, if she wants a separation by mutual
consent. Now don't misunderstand me. I only recommend the sort of
separation which will suit our convenience. You know as well as I do
that you can whistle your wife back again--"
Mr. Vimpany's friend was rude enough to interrupt him, there.
"I call that a coarse way of putting it," Lord Harry interposed.
"Put it how you like for yourself," the doctor rejoined. "Lady Harry
may be persuaded to come back to you, when we want her for our grand
project. In the meantime (for I am always a considerate man where women
are concerned) we act delicately towards my lady, in sparing her the
discovery of--what shall I call our coming enterprise?--venturesome
villainy, which might ruin you in your wife's estimation. Do you see
our situation now, as it really is? Very well. Pass the bottle, and
drop the subject for the present."
The next morning brought with it an event, which demolished the
doctor's ingenious arrangement for the dismissal of Iris from the scene
of action. Lord and Lady Harry encountered each other accidentally on
the stairs.
Distrusting herself if she ventured to look at him, Iris turned her
eyes away from her husband. He misinterpreted the action as an
expression of contempt. Anger at once inclined him to follow Mr.
Vimpany's advice.