lennard,
taking the cup his wife handed him. "Who has been reading what?"

"That lovely girl from the South--Georgie--Georgie what's her name--Mrs.
Dresham's protegee--unless she's YOURS, Mr. Dresham! Why, the big
ball-room was PACKED, and all the women were crying like idiots--it was
the most harrowing thing I ever heard--"

"What DID you hear?" Glennard asked; and his wife interposed: "Won't you
have another bit of cake, Julia? Or, Stephen, ring for some hot
toast, please." Her tone betrayed a polite satiety of the topic under
discussion. Glennard turned to the bell, but Mrs. Armiger pursued him
with her lovely amazement.

"Why, the 'Aubyn Letters'--didn't you know about it? The girl read them
so beautifully that it was quite horrible--I should have fainted if
there'd been a man near enough to carry me out."

Hartly's glee redoubled, and Dresham said, jovially, "How like you women
to raise a shriek over the book and then do all you can to encourage the
blatant publicity of the readings!"

Mrs. Armiger met him more than half-way on a torrent of self-accusal.
"It WAS horrid; it was disgraceful. I told your wife we ought all to
be ashamed of ourselves for going, and I think Alexa was quite right to
refuse to take any tickets--even if it was for a charity."

"Oh," her hostess murmured, indifferently, "with me charity begins at
home. I can't afford emotional luxuries."

"A charity? A charity?" Hartly exulted. "I hadn't seized the full beauty
of it. Reading poor Margaret Aubyn's love-letters at the Waldorf before
five hundred people for a charity! WHAT charity, dear Mrs. Armiger?"

"Why, the Home for Friendless Women--"

"It was well chosen," Dresham commented; and Hartly buried his mirth in
the sofa-cushions.

When they were alone Glennard, still holding his untouched cup of tea,
turned to his wife, who sat silently behind the kettle. "Who asked you
to take a ticket for that reading?"

"I don't know, really--Kate Dresham, I fancy. It was she who got it up."

"It's just the sort of damnable vulgarity she's capable of! It's
loathsome--it's monstrous--"

His wife, without looking up, answered gravely, "I thought so too. It
was for that reason I didn't go. But you must remember that very few
people feel about Mrs. Aubyn as you do--"

Glennard managed to set down his cup with a steady hand, but the room
swung round with him and he dropped into the nearest chair. "As I do?"
he repeated.

"I mean that very few