ericans there are," she reflected. "Mrs.
Medcroft and her sister are Americans. Compare them with the Rodneys and
Mr. Ulstervelt. No, Carney, I'll not start a scandal. The Rodneys would
not understand, as you say. They'd tear her to shreds and gloat over
the mutilation. No; we'll have her to see us in London. I like her."

"And, by Jove, Agatha, I like her sister."

"My dear, the baby is a darling."

"But what an ass Medcroft is!"

And thus is it proved that Mrs. Odell-Carney was not only a dutiful wife
in taking her husband into her confidence, but also that jointly they
enjoyed a peculiarly rational outlook upon the world as they had come to
know it and to feel for the people thereof. It is of small consequence
that they could not find it in their power to be in tune with the
virtuous Rodneys: the Rodneys were conditions, not effects.

However that may be, it was Katherine Rodney, pretty, plump, and
spoiled, who pulled the first stone from the foundation of Medcroft's
house of cards. Katherine had convinced herself that she was deeply
enamoured of the volatile Freddie; the more she thought that she loved
him, the greater became the conviction that he did not care as much for
her as he professed. She began to detect a decided falling off in his
ardour; it was no use trying to hide the fact from herself that
Constance was the most disturbing symptom in evidence. Jealousy
succeeded speculation. Katherine decided to be hateful; she could not
have helped it if she had tried.

It was very evident, to her at least, that Freddie was not to blame; he
was being led on by the artful Miss Fowler. There could be no doubt of
it--none in the least, declared Miss Rodney in the privacy of her own
miserable reflections.

Just as she was on the point of carrying her woes to her mother, an
astounding revelation came to her out of a clear sky; an entirely new
condition came into the problem. It dawned upon her suddenly, without
warning, that Roxbury Medcroft was in love with his sister-in-law!

[Illustration: "She began to detect a decided falling off in his
ardour."]

When she burst in upon her mother, half an hour later, that excellent
lady started up from her couch, alarmed by the excitement in her
daughter's face. Mrs. Rodney, good soul, was one of the kind who always
think the world is coming to an end, or the house is on fire, or the
king has been assassinated, if any one approaches with a look of
distress in his face.