'll tell her. I'm sorry that you were disturbed." But she
was thinking only of his tone. He was not an irritable man, and he had
never used such a tone to her before. All pleasure in the interview was
over. She was actually glad when one of the nurses came in and began to
move about the room in a manner that suggested dismissal.

"Of course I'm not angry," she said to herself. "He's so weak one must
humor him like a child."

She derived some satisfaction, however, from the idea of sending for her
maid Lucie and making her uncomfortable; but on her way she met Mathilde
in the hall.

"May I speak to you, Mama?" she said.

Mrs. Farron laughed.

"May you speak to me?" she said. "Why, yes; you may have the unusual
privilege. What is it?"

Mathilde followed her mother into the bedroom and shut the door.

"Pete has just been here. He has been offered a position in China."

"In China?" said Mrs. Farron. This was the first piece of luck that had
come to her in a long time, but she did not betray the least pleasure. "I
hope it is a good one."

"Yes, he thinks it good. He sails in two weeks."

"In two weeks?" And this time she could not prevent her eye lighting a
little. She thought how nicely that small complication had settled
itself, and how clever she had been to have the mother to dinner and
behave as if she were friendly. She did not notice that her daughter was
trembling; she couldn't, of course, be expected to know that the girl's
hands were like ice, and that she had waited several seconds to steady
her voice sufficiently to pronounce the fatal sentence:

"He wants me to go with him, Mama."

She watched her mother in an agony for the effect of these words.
Mrs. Farron had suddenly detected a new burn in the hearth-rug. She
bent over it.

"This wood does snap so!" she murmured.

The rug was a beautiful old Persian carpet of roses and urns.

"Did you understand what I said, Mama?"

"Yes, dear; that Mr. Wayne was going to China in two weeks and wanted you
to go, too. Was it just a _politesse_, or does he actually imagine that
you could?"

"He thinks I can."

Mrs. Farron laughed good-temperedly.

"Did you go and see about having your pink silk shortened?" she said.

Mathilde stared at her mother, and in the momentary silence Lucie came in
and asked what madame wanted for the evening, and Adelaide in her fluent
French began explaining that what she really desired most was that Lucie
should not make so