er again the
dramatic happening of the last few days.

"`It's a mad world, my masters,'" she said to herself between a smile
and a sigh. "No sooner do I receive a sentence of celibacy for life
than I am promptly introduced to a new and interesting personality, a
nice man, a superlatively nice man, a man, moreover, who shows every
sign of returning the compliment and thinking me a superlatively nice
girl into the bargain--when, presto! he discovers himself in the light
of Jean's future husband. I know it, and she doesn't. The drollness of
the situation! At this moment she is sleeping in placid innocence,
while I am a-thrill at the dawning of her romance. She will marry him--
oh, yes! She will marry him; as certainly as she stood under that palm
tree waiting to-night. What a lovely rose she made, and how his eyes
glowed as he looked at her! Superstition or no superstition, that big,
simple heart has accepted her as his wife as unquestionably as if a
trumpet blast from heaven had proclaimed her name. It's such an easy
thing to tumble into love with Jean; the trouble is for any masculine
thing to keep steady on his feet. He will worship her, and she must
love him in return, as the perfect complement of herself. He so calm,
and trustful, and serene; she, airy, impulsive, rebellious; but even in
her naughtiest moods so lovable and feminine a thing. Well! as I am
never to have a romance of my own, I must needs find double interest in
Jean's and enjoy myself vicariously through her. It will be quick work.
That dramatic meeting carried him in a flash past all the initial stage
of wonder and uncertainty. It's rather a pity, I should have loved to
watch it grow; but it has sprung into life full-grown. Oh, Jean, Jean,
how little you know--how little you guess!"

Then Vanna's thoughts flew back to the moment when, on the way through
the ballroom, she had found herself alone with Robert Gloucester after
the dramatic encounter in the conservatory. Their eyes had met, and she
had spoken a few words on the flood of an overwhelming impulse.

"I won't tell her. I promise not to tell."

"Thank you," he had replied warmly. "It will be better. I would
rather--"

He paused at that, but there was about him a transparency of candour
which made it easy to divine what he had been about to say, "I'll would
rather tell her myself!"

Vanna's heart knew a little cramp of envy at all which that sentence
implied.

Next morni