se in
Kensington.

I met a singular lack of welcome. Rosalie gave me a limper hand than
usual, and took an early opportunity of leaving me tete-a-tete with her
mother, who conversed frigidly about the warm weather. The very tea, if
possible, was colder.

I met Judith by appointment in Kensington Gardens, and walked with her
homewards. I mentioned my chilly reception.

"My dear man," she observed--I dislike this apostrophe, which Judith
always uses by way of introduction to an unpleasant remark--"My dear
man, I have no doubt that you have as unsavoury a reputation as any one
in London. You are credited with an establishment like Solomon's--minus
the respectable counter-balance of the wives, and your devout relatives
are very properly shocked."

I said that it was monstrous. Judith retorted that I had brought the
calumny upon myself.

"But what can I do?" I asked.

"Board her out with a suburban family, as you should have done from the
first. Even I, who am not strait-laced, consider it highly improper for
you to have her alone with you in the house."

"My dear," said I, "there is Antoinette."

"Tush"--or something like it--said Judith.

"And Stenson. No one seeing Stenson could doubt the irreproachable
propriety of his master."

"I really have no patience with you," said Judith.

It is hopeless to discuss Carlotta with her. I shall do it no more.

We sat for a while under the trees, and conversed on rational topics.
She likes her employment with Willoughby. The morning she spends among
blue books and other waste matter at the British Museum, and she devotes
the evening to sorting her information. Willoughby commends her highly.

"And there is something I know you'll be very pleased to hear," she
continued. "Who do you think called on me yesterday? Mrs. Willoughby.
Her husband wants me to spend August and September at a place they
have taken in North Wales, and help him with his new book--as a private
secretary, you know. I said that I never went into society. I must tell
you this was the first time I had seen her. She put her hand on my arm
in the sweetest way in the world and said: 'I know all about it, my
dear, and that is why I thought I'd come myself as Harold's ambassador.'
Wasn't it beautiful of her?"

She looked at me and her eyes were filled with tears.

"Marcus dear, I am not a bad woman, am I?"

"My dearest," I answered, very deeply touched, "you are the best woman
in the world. So far from