"I think my plan was a good one, don't you? Peter's been an excellent
antidote to Maryon Rooke," she observed complacently.

"I'm not so sure," returned Penelope with characteristic caution. "I
think a married man--especially such an _un_married married man as
Pete--is rather a dangerous antidote."

"Nonsense! They both _know_ he's married! And they've both got normal
common-sense."

"But," objected Penelope, suddenly and unexpectedly, "love has nothing
whatever to do with common-sense."

Kitty gazed at her in frank amazement.

"Penelope! What's come to you? We've always regarded you as the
severely practical member of the community, and here you are talking
rank heresy!"

Penelope laughed a little, and a faint flush stole up into her cheeks.

"I'm not unobservant, remember," she returned, lightly, her eyes
avoiding Kitty's. "And my observations have led me to the conclusion
that love and common-sense are distinctly antipathic."

"Well, Nan seems quite happy and cheerful again, anyway," retorted
Kitty. "And if she'd fallen in love with Peter, knowing that there was
a very much alive Mrs. Peter in the background, she would hardly be
feeling particularly cheery."

"Oh, I don't think Nan's fallen in love--yet. And as to her present
joyful mood, that's easily accounted for by the doubled income Lord St.
John is allowing her--I never knew anyone extract quite so much
satisfaction as Nan from the actual spending of money. Besides,
although she doesn't realise it, Peter has made himself rather
indispensable to her."

Kitty spoke with nervous sharpness:

"But you don't think she cares for him?"

The other reflected a moment before replying. Finally she said:

"If she does, it is quite unconsciously. Consciously, I feel almost
sure that Maryon Rooke still occupies her thoughts."

"I wonder where she finds the great attraction in him?" queried Kitty
thoughtfully.

"Simply this: That he was the first and, go far, the only man who has
ever appealed to her at all. And as he has treated her rather badly,
he's succeeded in fixing himself in her mind."

"Well, I've never understood the affair at all. Rooke was in love if
ever a man was."

"Yes," agreed Penelope slowly. "But I think Maryon Rooke is what I
should describe as--a born bachelor."

"Then he's no business philandering round with women who aren't born
spinsters," retorted Kitty promptly.

Penelope's brown eyes twinkled.

"You're rather