But I hardly needed either of them to tell me.

I hadn't thought of myself as--well, not as particularly captivating!" Oddly enough, Mary's pallor changed to an angry flush.

"Those two!" she exclaimed, sharply; and then, with thoroughgoing contempt: "Lamhorn! That's like them!" She turned away, went to the bare little black mantel, and stood leaning upon it.

Presently she asked: "WHEN did Mrs.
Roscoe Sheridan say that 'no girl' could care about you ?" "To-day." Mary drew a deep breath.

"I think I'm beginning to understand--a little." She bit her lip; there was anger in good truth in her eyes and in her voice.