ermill significantly.
"I do not believe that Marraville himself expects that." She hesitated for
an instant. "It is really dreadful that Braden should have achieved so
much notoriety on account of--I _beg_ your pardon!"

Anne had arisen and was standing over her visitor in an attitude at once
menacing and theatric. The old lady blinked and caught her breath.

"If you are trying to make me believe, Mrs. Wintermill, that Braden would
consent to--But, why should I insult him by attempting to defend him when
no defence is necessary? I know him well enough to say that he would not
operate on James Marraville for all the money in the world unless he
believed that there was a chance to pull him through." She spoke rapidly
and rather too intensely for Mrs. Wintermill's peace of mind.

"That is just what Percy says," stammered the older woman hastily. "He
believes in Braden. He says it's all tommyrot about Marraville paying him
to put him out of his misery. My dear, I don't believe there is a more
loyal creature on earth than Percy Wintermill. He--"

Percy was announced at that instant. He came quickly into the room and,
failing utterly to see his mother, went up to Anne and inquired what the
deuce had happened to prevent her coming to luncheon, and why she didn't
have the grace to let him know, and what did she take him for, anyway.

"Elaine and I stood around over there for an hour,--an hour, do you get
that?--biting everything but food, and--"

"I'm awfully sorry, Percy," said Anne calmly. "I wouldn't offend Elaine
for the world. She's--"

"Elaine? What about me? Elaine took it as a joke, confound her,--but I
didn't. Now see here, Anne, old girl, you know I'm not in the habit of
being--"

"Here is your mother, Percy," interrupted Anne coldly.

"Hello! You still waiting for me, mother? I say, what do you think Anne's
been doing to your angel child? Forgetting that he's on earth, that's all.
Now, where were you, Anne, and what's the racket? I'm not in the habit of
being--"

"I forgot all about it, Percy," confessed Anne deliberately. She was
conscious of a sadly unfeminine longing to see just how Percy's nose
_could_ look under certain conditions. "I couldn't say that to you over
the phone, however,--could I?"

"Anne's sister-in-law is expecting a baby," put in Mrs. Wintermill
fatuously. This would never do! Percy ought to know better than to say
such things to Anne. What on earth had got into him? Except for the
f