provoked with me, Phillida dear. Indeed, I hardly realized
what I said yesterday. I had just got through with speaking, I was very
much exhausted, and I did not quite understand."

"You may have been right yesterday," said Phillida; "I hope you were. If
you were wrong, it was a dreadful mistake." She made a long pause, and
then went on. "I thought the course you advised yesterday a brave course
at least. But what you have said to-day, about social position and so
on, I hate. And it makes me doubt it all."

Phillida thrust out the toe of her boot, unconsciously giving expression
to her disposition to spurn Mrs. Frankland's worldly-wise counsel.

"You're excited, my dear," said Mrs. Frankland. "Your break with Mr.
Millard may not be so irretrievable as you think it. Providence will
direct. If, on the whole, it is thought best, I have no doubt things may
be replaced on their old footing. I am sure Mrs. Hilbrough and I could
manage that. You ought not to be unreasonable."

"I sent him in agony out into the rainy night, forsaken and discarded."
Phillida could not quite suppress a little sob as she stretched her hand
a moment in the direction in which Millard had gone. "God knows I
thought I was doing right. Now because you have heard that he has money
and moves in fashionable circles you wish me to intrigue with you and
Mrs. Hilbrough to bring him back."

Phillida rose to her feet, excitement breaking through the habitual
reserve with which her emotional nature was overlaid. "I tell you, Mrs.
Frankland," she went on with a directness verging on vehemence, "that I
will have none of your interference, nor any of Mrs. Hilbrough's. What I
have done, is done, and can never be recalled."

"Indeed, Phillida, you are excited," said Mrs. Frankland. "You reject
the advice and assistance of your best friends. You have quite
misunderstood what I have said. I only wished to repair my error."

Phillida remained silent, but she resumed her seat.

"Think the matter over. Take time to make your decision. I have acted
only in your interest, and yet you blame me." Mrs. Frankland said this
with persuasive plaintiveness of tone.

But Phillida said nothing. Not seeing anything else to do, Mrs.
Frankland rose and said: "Good-by, Phillida. When you have had time to
think you will see things differently." She did not extend her hand, and
Phillida felt that her own was too chill and limp to offer. She
contrived, however, to utter a "Good-by.