too."

"I said nothing whatever, Carrie, that would justify this little
explosion, which I certainly don't intend to answer. I should
really feel very vexed, if I were not perfectly sure that you would
never tell anyone else of this notion that you have got in your
head."

"You may be quite sure of that, Bertha. At least when I say no one
else, of course I do not include Harry; but you know him well
enough to be certain that it will not go further. I am sure he will
be as disappointed as I am. In fact, he will have a small triumph
over me, for after the usual manner of men he saw nothing on board
the yacht, and has always maintained that it was pure fancy on my
part. However, I won't tell anyone else, not even Amy. She can find
it out for herself, which you may be sure she will do when she
comes back from the continent, if indeed her own happiness with
Jack has not blinded her to all sub-lunary matters.

"Well, goodbye, dear. You will forgive my saying that I am
disappointed in you, terribly disappointed in you."

"I must try to put up with that, Carrie. I am not aware that you
consulted me before you made your own matrimonial arrangements, and
perhaps I may be able to manage my own.''

"Well, don't be cross, Bertha. Remember that I am not advising or
counselling. I am simply regretting, which perhaps you may do
yourself, some day or other."

And with this parting shot she left.

The weeks went on, and when May came and Frank told her that the
Osprey was fitted out, and that he would join her in a day or two,
Bertha heard the news with satisfaction. The season was a gay one,
and she was enjoying herself greatly; the one little drop of
bitterness in her cup being that she could no longer enjoy his
visits as she formerly did. He had been the one man with whom she
was able to talk and laugh quite freely, who was really an old
friend, a link not only between her and the past, but between her
and her country life.

And now, she thought pettishly, he had spoiled all this, and what
annoyed her almost as much was that the change was more in herself
than in him. She no longer gave him commissions to execute for her,
nor made him her general confidant. She knew that he would be as
ready as before to laugh and to sympathise, that he would still
gladly execute her commissions, and she felt that he tried hard to
make her forget that he had aspired to be something nearer to her
than a brotherly friend. She felt that after