with the wonder of her conduct. Amy Warden thinks that, as so intimate a friend, I should hear what he has decided to do. She takes for granted, I suppose—though she doesn't say it—that I'll let Margaret know.'
Philip Mackern looked at the ceiling. 'She doesn't know yet?'
Mrs. Despard hesitated. 'I suppose he means it as a surprise.'
'So you won't tell her?'
'On the contrary—I shall tell her immediately. But I thought it best to tell you first.'
'I'm extremely obliged to you,' said Philip Mackern.
'Of course you hate me—but I don't care!' Mrs. Despard declared. 'You've made her talked about in India—you may be proud!'
Once more Philip Mackern considered. 'I'm not at all proud—but I think I'm very glad.'
'I think you're very horrible then. But I've said what I wanted. Good-bye.' Mrs. Despard had nodded at the foot man, who, returning, had announced her carriage. He had left, on retiring, the door open, and as she followed him to go to her room her visitor went out with her. She gave Mackern, on the landing, a last word. 'Her one chance is to marry him as soon as he arrives.'
Mackern's strange smile, in his white face, was now fixed. 'Her one chance, dear lady, is to marry me.'
His hostess, suddenly flushing on this, showed a passion that startled him. 'Stuff!' she crudely cried, and turned away with such impatience that, quitting her, he passed half downstairs. But she more quickly turned back to him; calling his name, she came to the top, while, checked, he looked up at her. Then she spoke with a particular solemnity. 'To marry you, Mr. Mackern,'—it was quite portentous,—'will be the very worst thing for her good name.'
The young man stood staring, then frankly emulated his friend. 'Rubbish!' he rang out as he swiftly descended.
