nswered Marion coolly. "The only test for a
thoroughbred is the field. He rings true."

They exchanged carefully impersonal views on Siward's good qualities
for a moment or two; then Marion said bluntly: "Do you know anything in
particular about that Patroons Club affair?"

"No," said Sylvia, "nothing in particular."

"Neither do I; and I don't care to; I mean, that I don't care what he
did; and I wish that gossiping old Major would stop trying to hint it to
me."

"My uncle!"

"Oh! I forgot. Beg your pardon, you know, but--"

"I'm not offended," observed Sylvia, with a shrug of her pretty, bare
shoulders.

Marion laughed. "Such a gadabout! Besides, I'm no prude, but he and
Leroy Mortimer have no business to talk to unmarried women the way they
do. No matter how worldly wise we are, men have no right to suppose we
are."

"Pooh!" shrugged Sylvia. "I have no patience to study out
double-entendre, so it never shocks me. Besides--"

She was going to add that she was not at all versed in doubtful worldly
wisdom, but decided not to, as it might seem to imply disapproval of
Marion's learning. So she went on: "Besides, what have innuendoes to do
with Mr. Siward?"

"I don't know whether I care to understand them. The Major hinted
that the woman--the one who figured in it--is--rather exclusively Mr.
Siward's 'property.'"

"Exclusively?" repeated Sylvia curiously. "She's a public actress, isn't
she?"

"If you call the manoeuvres of a newly fledged chorus girl acting, yes,
she is. But I don't believe Mr. Siward figures in that unfashionable
role. Why, there are too many women of his own sort ready for mischief."
Marion turned to Sylvia, her eyes hard with a cynicism quite lost on the
other. "That sort of thing might suit Leroy Mortimer, but it doesn't fit
Mr. Siward," she concluded, rising as their hostess appeared from above
and the butler from below.

And all through dinner an indefinitely unpleasant remembrance of the
conversation lingered with Sylvia, and she sat silent for minutes at a
time, returning to actualities with a long, curious side-glance across
at Siward, and an uncomprehending smile of assent for whatever Quarrier
or Major Belwether had been saying to her.

Cards she managed to avoid after dinner, and stood by Quarrier's chair
for half an hour, absently watching the relentless method and steady
adherence to rule which characterised his Bridge-playing, the eager,
unslaked brutality of Mortimer, th