he'll find some means of making as dear as possible—that's also his tribute to the ideal. It does for him. He'll see her through. They won't talk of anything worse than you and me."
"Well, we're bad enough, perhaps, thank heaven," she laughed, "to upset them! Mr. Waymarsh, at any rate, is a hideous old coquette." And the next moment she had dropped everything for a different pursuit. "What you don't appear to know is that Jeanne de Vionnet has become engaged. She's to marry—it has been definitely arranged—young M. de Montbron."
He fairly blushed. "Then—if you know it—it's 'out'?"
"Don't I often know things that are not out? However," she said, "this will be out to-morrow. But I see I've counted too much on your possible ignorance. You've been before me, and I don't make you jump as I hoped."
He gave a gasp at her insight. "You never fail! I've had my jump. I had it when I first heard."
"Then, if you knew, why didn't you tell me as soon as you came in?"
"Because I had it from her as a thing not yet to be spoken of."
Miss Gostrey wondered. "From Mme. de Vionnet herself?"
"As a probability—not quite a certainty: a good cause in which Chad has been working. So I've waited."
"You need wait no longer," she returned. "It reached me yesterday—roundabout and accidental, but by a person who had had it from one of the young man's own people—as a thing quite settled. I was only keeping it for you."
"You thought Chad wouldn't have told me?"
She hesitated. "Well, if he hasn't———"
"He hasn't. And yet the thing appears to have been practically his doing. So there we are."
"There we are!" Maria candidly echoed.
"That's why I jumped. I jumped," he continued to explain, "because it means, this disposition of the daughter, that there's now nothing else: nothing else but him and the mother."
"Still—it simplifies."
"It simplifies—"he fully concurred. "But that's pre-
