, "about our dear Mrs.
Majendie."

Mrs. Eliott's eyes darkened with anxiety. She clasped her hands. "Oh why?
What is it? Do you mean about the dear little girl?"

"I know nothing about the little girl. But I hear very unpleasant things
about her husband."

"What things?"

The Canon's face was reticent and grim. He wished Mrs. Eliott to
understand that he was no unscrupulous purveyor of gossip; that if he
spoke, it was under constraint and severe necessity.

"I do not," said the Canon, "usually give heed to disagreeable reports.
But I am afraid that, where there is such a dense cloud of smoke, there
must be some fire."

"I think," said Mrs. Eliott, "perhaps they didn't get on very well
together once. But they seem to have made it up after the sister's death.
_She_ has been happier these last three years. She has been a different
woman."

"The same woman, my dear lady, the same woman. Only a better saint. For
the last three years, they say, he has been living with another woman."

"Oh--it's impossible. Impossible. He is away a great deal--but--"

"He is away a great deal too often. Running up to Scarby every week in
that yacht of his. In with the Ransomes and all that disreputable set."

"Is Lady Cayley in Scale?"

"Lady Cayley is at Scarby."

"Do you mean to say--"

"I mean," said the Canon, rising, "to say nothing."

Mrs. Eliott detained him with her eyes of anguish.

"Canon Wharton--do you think she knows?"

"I cannot tell you."

The Canon never told. He was far too clever.

Mrs. Eliott wandered to Miss Proctor.

"Do you know," said Miss Proctor, searching Mrs. Eliott's face with an
inquisitive gaze, "how our friends, the Majendies, are getting on?"

"Oh, as usual. I see very little of her now. Anne is quite taken up with
her little girl and with her good works."

"Oh! That," said Miss Proctor, "was a most unsuitable marriage."

It was five o'clock. The Canon and Miss Proctor had drunk their two
cups of tea and departed. Mrs. Pooley had arrived soon after four;
she lingered, to talk a little more about the thought-power and the
mind-control. Mrs. Pooley was convinced that she could make things
happen. That they were, in fact, happening. But Mrs. Eliott was no longer
interested.

Mrs. Pooley, too, departed, feeling that dear Fanny's Thursday had been a
disappointment. She had been quite unable to sustain the conversation at
its usual height.

Mrs. Pooley indubitably gone, Mrs. Eliott wand