f me. But you know I never could stand
his eyeglass. It is what they call anti-social in their novels.
Really, you might as well live in the Crystal Palace." Then she held
out her hand, and Lucy took it after some hesitation. But Mabel was
irrepressible. Almost immediately she had jumped into the fray again,
with "You're both going to his place in Hampshire, aren't you?" Then
Lucy had flushed; and Mabel had given her a queer look.

"That's all right," she presently said. "He asked us, you know, but we
can't. I hear that Vera Nugent is to be hostess. I rather liked her,
though of course you can never tell how such copious conversation will
wear. I don't think she stopped talking for a single moment. Laurence
thought he was going mad. It makes him broody, you know, like a hen.
He rubs his ears, and says his wattles are inflamed."

It was either that day, or another such day--it really doesn't matter
which day it was--that Mabel drifted into the subject of what she
called "the James romance." Did James--? Had James--? And where were
we standing now? Lucy, whose feelings upon the subject were more
complicated than they had been at first, was not very communicative;
but she owned there had been repetitions. Mabel, who was desperately
quick to notice, judged that she was mildly bored. "I see," she said;
"I see. But--that's all."

"All!" cried Lucy. "Yes, indeed."

Mabel said again, "I see." Lucy, who certainly didn't see, was silent;
and then Mabel with appalling candour said, "I suppose you would have
it out with him if you weren't afraid to."

Lucy was able to cope with that kind of thing. "Nothing would induce
me to do it. I shouldn't be able to lift my head up if I did. It would
not only be--well, horrible, but it would be very cruel as well. I
should feel myself a brute." On Mabel's shrug she was stung into an
attack of her own. "And whatever you may say, to me, I know that you
couldn't bring yourself to such a point. No woman could do it, who
respected herself." Mabel had the worst of it in the centre, but by a
flanking movement recovered most of the ground. She became very vague.
She said, as if to herself, "After all, you know, you may be mistaken.
Perhaps the less you say the better."

Mistaken! And "the less you say"! Lucy's grey eyes took intense
direction. "Please tell me what you mean, my dear. Do you think I'm
out of my senses? Do you really think I've imagined it all?"

"No, no," said Mabel quickly, and