sorry for poor Margaret," she
whispered. Von Rosen looked down at her very gently. This little
girl's belief in her friend was like a sacred lily, not to be touched
or soiled.

"Yes," he said and Annie smiled up at him comfortably. Von Rosen was
glad she sat beside him. He thought her very lovely, and there was a
subtle suggestion of something besides loveliness. He thought that
daintily mended India muslin exquisite, and also the carved
corals,--bracelets on the slender wrists, a necklace--resting like a
spray of flowers on the girlish neck, a comb in the soft hair which
Annie had arranged becomingly and covered from her aunt's sight with
a lace scarf. She felt deceitful about her hair, but how could she
help it?

The dinner was less ghastly than could have been expected after the
revelation of the guest of honour and the blank consternation of the
host, who made no attempt to conceal his state of mind. Poor Wilbur
had no society tricks. Alice Mendon, who was quite cognizant of the
whole matter, but was broad enough to leap to the aid of another
woman, did much. She had quite a talent for witty stories and a
goodly fund of them. The dinner went off very well, while Martha
Wallingford ate hers from a dinner tray in her room and felt that
every morsel was sweetened with righteous revenge.

The next morning she left for New York and Margaret did not attempt
to detain her although she had a lunch party planned besides the
Sunday festivities. Margaret had had a scene with Wilbur after the
departure of the guests the previous evening. For the first time in
her experience, the devoted husband had turned upon his goddess. He
had asked, "Was it true, what that girl said?" and Margaret had
laughed up at him bewitchingly to no effect. Wilbur's face was very
stern.

"My dear," said Margaret, "I knew perfectly well that if I actually
asked her to speak or read, she would have refused."

"You have done an unpardonable thing," said the man. "You have
betrayed your own sense of honour, your hospitality toward the guest
under your roof."

Margaret laughed as she took an ornament from her yellow head but the
laugh was defiant and forced. In her heart she bitterly resented her
husband's attitude and more bitterly resented the attitude of respect
into which it forced her. "It is the very last time I ask a Western
authoress to accept my hospitality," said she.

"I hope so," said Wilbur gravely.

That night Karl von Rosen walke