powder!
I look like a comic actor!"

Both of them laughed, and this rather cleared the air.

"It was very good of you to tell me," said Mary. "Thank you. It's so
like me! When I'm agitated I become too appallingly absent-minded for
words. That's the sort of thing I do. How you must sneer--I mean, laugh
at me, Mrs. Kellynch!"

"Indeed not! What an idea. It could happen to anyone."

"Well, I came to see you for two reasons. One is this: Mrs. Kellynch, I
want to beg your pardon. I'm very, very sorry."

"For what, Mrs. Hillier?"

"For many things. I was horribly rude--I behaved shamefully at my party
the other day. I must have been mad. I was so miserable." She said this
in a low voice.

Bertha held out her hand. The poor girl--she was not much more--looked
so miserable, and had just looked so absurd! It must have been such a
humiliation to know that one had called on one's rival got up like a
comedian--a singer of comic songs at the Pavilion.

"Mrs. Hillier, don't say any more. I quite forgive you, and will not
think of it again. Don't let us talk of it any more. Have some more
tea?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Kellynch. This isn't all. I have something else to
tell you, and then I want, if I may, to consult you. I did a dreadful,
dreadful thing! I don't know how I could! Oh, when I see you--when I
look at you and see how sweet and kind you are----"

Bertha, terrified that Mary would begin to cry and get hysterical, tried
to stop her.

"Don't, Mrs. Hillier. Don't tell me any more. It might--I guess what you
are going to say--I know it might have caused great trouble. But it
didn't. So never mind. You were upset--didn't think."

"Oh no, Mrs. Kellynch; you must let me confess it. I sha'n't be at peace
till I do. I want to tell--my husband--that I confessed and apologised.
I actually wrote----"

"Really, all this is unnecessary. You are giving us both unnecessary
pain," said Bertha. "I know it--I guess it. Won't you leave it at that?
All traces of--the trouble were destroyed, and, if you want to be kind
to me now, you'll not speak of it any more."

Mary had begun to cry, but she controlled herself, seeing it would
please Bertha best.

"Very well, I'll say no more. Only do, _do_ try to forgive me."

"I do with all my heart."

"Then you're angelic. Thank you." After a moment's pause, Mary put away
her handkerchief.

"Have a cigarette," suggested Bertha, who hardly knew what to do to
compose her agitated visi