de," Mrs. Stringham explained in spite of her friend's
doubt, and it was with this that her communication took consistent
form. It had never been pride, Maud Manningham had hinted, that kept
_her_ from crying when other things made for it; it had only been that
these same things, at such times, made still more for business,
arrangements, correspondence, the ringing of bells, the marshalling of
servants, the taking of decisions. "I might be crying now," she said,
"if I weren't writing letters"--and this quite without harshness for
her anxious companion, to whom she allowed just the administrative
margin for difference. She had interrupted her no more than she would
have interrupted the piano-tuner. It gave poor Susie time; and when
Mrs. Lowder, to save appearances and catch the post, had, with her
addressed and stamped notes, met at the door of the room the footman
summoned by the pressure of a knob, the facts of the case were
sufficiently ready for her. It took but two or three, however, given
their importance, to lay the ground for the great one--Mrs. Stringham's
interview of the day before with Sir Luke, who had wished to see her
about Milly.

"He had wished it himself?"

"I think he was glad of it. Clearly indeed he was. He stayed a quarter
of an hour. I could see that for _him_ it was long. He's interested,"
said Mrs. Stringham.

"Do you mean in her case?"

"He says it _isn't_ a case."

"What then is it?"

"It isn't, at least," Mrs. Stringham explained, "the case she believed
it to be--thought it at any rate _might_ be--when, without my
knowledge, she went to see him. She went because there was something
she was afraid of, and he examined her thoroughly--he has made sure.
She's wrong--she hasn't what she thought."

"And what did she think?" Mrs. Lowder demanded.

"He didn't tell me."

"And you didn't ask?"

"I asked nothing," said poor Susie--"I only took what he gave me. He
gave me no more than he had to--he was beautiful," she went on. "He
_is_, thank God, interested."

"He must have been interested in _you_, dear," Maud Manningham observed
with kindness.

Her visitor met it with candour. "Yes, love, I think he _is_. I mean
that he sees what he can do with me."

Mrs. Lowder took it rightly. "For _her_."

"For her. Anything in the world he will or he must. He can use me to
the last bone, and he likes at least that. He says the great thing for
her is to be happy."

"It's surely the great thing