of the weak spot
which she had discovered, in order that her observation might be
corroborated. And this Maggie had failed to do.

With the slightest encouragement, Catrina would have told her companion
all that had passed. The sympathy between women is so strong that there
is usually only one man who is safe from discussion. In Catrina's case
that one man was not Claude de Chauxville. But Maggie Delafield was of
different material from this impressionable, impulsive Russian girl. She
was essentially British in her capacity for steering a straight personal
course through the shoals and quicksands of her neighbors' affairs, as
also in the firm grip she held upon her own thoughts. She was by no
means prepared to open her mind to the first comer, and in her somewhat
slow-going English estimate of such matters Catrina was as yet little
more than the first comer.

She changed the subject, and they talked for some time on indifferent
topics--such topics as have an interest for girls; and who are we that
we may despise them? We jeer very grandly at girls' talk, and promptly
return to the discussion of our dogs and pipes and clothing.

But Catrina was not happy under this judicious treatment. She had no one
in the world to whom she could impart a thousand doubts and questions--a
hundred grievances and one great grief. And it was just this one great
grief of which Maggie dreaded the mention. She was quite well aware of
its existence--had been aware of it for some time. Karl Steinmetz had
thrown out one or two vague hints; everything pointed to it. Maggie
could hardly be ignorant of the fact that Catrina had grown to womanhood
loving Paul.

A score of times Catrina approached the subject, and with imperturbable
steadfastness Maggie held to her determination that Paul was not to be
discussed by them. She warded, she evaded, she ignored with a skill
which baffled the simple Russian. She had a hundred subterfuges--a
hundred skilful turns and twists. Where women learn these matters,
Heaven only knows! All our experience of the world, our falls and
stumbles on the broken road of life, never teach us some things that are
known to the veriest schoolgirl standing on the smoother footpath that
women tread.

At last Catrina rose to go. Maggie rose also. Women are relentless where
they fight for their own secrets. Maggie morally turned Catrina out of
the room. The two girls stood looking at each other for a moment. They
had nothing in