id anything?... Oh, my
goodness, Charles will be so angry!"

She maintained her attitude and expression of acute distress, while the
two men rose, and, very rudely, without a word of excuse to their
hostess, moved to the far end of the drawing-room, where they were out
of earshot. But, on the instant when their backs were turned, the
volatile young wife cast off her mock anxiety, and, in the very best of
spirits, wrinkled her nose saucily at the disturbed twain.... And, as
long as they conferred together, with no eyes for her, she sat alertly
erect, smiling to herself, as one highly gratified by the course of
events.

"Now, if only Charles doesn't spoil things again!" she murmured.

CHAPTER XVIII

Morton and Carrington were just finishing their low-toned, but very
animated, conference at the end of the drawing-room, when their
attention, together with that of Cicily, was attracted by a noise at the
door. All three looked up, to see Hamilton striding into the room.
Behind him came Delancy. At a gesture of warning from his wife, Hamilton
faced about, and saw his two business foes.

"Well, well, I didn't know that you were here," he exclaimed, with a
fair showing of cordiality, as he advanced, and shook hands with the
visitors. Delancy contented himself with bowing to each in turn, then
went to Cicily, and asked for a cup of tea. During the few moments spent
in offering this hospitality, Cicily whispered rapidly to the old
gentleman, who appeared mightily startled at her words.

"Mrs. Hamilton has been entertaining us again," Morton remarked, in an
acid tone, to his host. "Really, she has been rather more interesting
than she was before."

At this statement, Hamilton shifted uneasily. He turned an indignant
stare on his wife, wondering dismally what new imbroglio had been
precipitated by her lack of restraint.

"Oh, you needn't look at me in that fashion," Cicily objected, with a
pout. "I didn't say anything this time, either. I only told them about
our winning the strike, and--"

"What!" Hamilton brought out the word like a pistol-shot.

"Surely, you couldn't mind my telling them that," Cicily said, in a
voice suspiciously demure. "And that's all I told them, except--"

"Except what?" Hamilton fairly shouted.

"Why, except about the contracts to do the work for the independents at
fifteen cents--that's all."

"You--you told them that!" the astounded husband gasped. He whirled
toward Morton. "Why,