ns, and she was sorry she had done so. The better part of her
knew that she had been admitted into the very sanctuary of the girl's
soul, and that the worst part of her, which usually dominated, was not
worthy to be trusted with such a secret. She wished Mary had not said
the words--since it changed everything and made a singularly pleasing
weapon to use against Beatrice O'Valley should occasion rise. Mary was
good--and it was safer to slander a good person than a bad one because
there was less chance of a come-back. As she tried to make herself
forget what she had just heard she knew that in the heat of anger or
to gain some material goal she would use this effectual weapon without
thinking and without remorse.

"Oh, my poor girl!" was all she said; and Mary, believing that Trudy
so reverenced her secret that she was not going to stab it with clumsy
words, kissed her and very practically set about getting a lunch.

Trudy went home taking some biscuit and half a cake with her, and by
the time she reached the Touraine she was in a cheerful frame of mind
once more. The relief of confession, the home food, and the knowledge
of Mary's secret had buoyed her up past caring for or considering
Gay.

To her surprise Gay was at home, jubilant and repentant. He had won at
pool and had also consumed some 1879 Burgundy, which conspired to make
him adore his red-haired wife and tell her that he had quite deserved
and enjoyed having his face smacked.

The pool money in her safe keeping, visions of a new hat to wear at
the next luncheon caused Trudy to equal his elation. Together they ate
up Mary's biscuits and cake and talked about Beatrice's remodelling
the Constantine mansion at the cost of many thousands.

"We could almost retire," Trudy suggested; "but I'm afraid Steve will
never give his consent."

"Don't worry. Bea would never let a little thing like a husband stand
in the way of her progress."

In March, just as Steve was returning, Beatrice and her aunt departed
for a whirl in Florida, with a laconic invitation that Steve and his
father-in-law follow them. Steve declined the invitation with alarming
curtness.

Though Constantine worried in his peculiar way because Steve did not
rush down to Florida to play with the rest of the snapping turtles
Beatrice had about her heels he did not succeed in getting anything
but a logical explanation as to a business rush from his son-in-law.
More and more Steve was being saddled w