MRS. MEDWIN
will prevent her from doing as she likes, what she takes into her head. Of course," he continued to explain, " if it's something she doesn't want to do, she'll make as much as Moses."
Mamie wondered if that was the way he talked to her visitor, but felt obliged to own to his acuteness. It was an exact description of Lady Wantridge, and she was conscious of tucking it away for future use in a corner of her miscellaneous little mind. She withheld, however, all present acknowledgment, only addressing him another question. "Did you really get on with her?"
"Have you still to learn, darling—I can't help again putting it to you—that I get on with everybody? That's just what I don't seem able to drive into you. Only see how I get on with you."
She almost stood corrected. "What I mean is, of course, whether———"
"Whether she made love to me? Shyly, yet—or because—shamefully? She would certainly have liked awfully to stay."
"Then why didn't she?"
"Because, on account of some other matter—and I could see it was true—she hadn't time. Twenty minutes—she was here less—were all she came to give you. So don't be afraid I've frightened her away. She'll come back."
Mamie thought it over. "Yet you didn't go with her to the door?"
"She wouldn't let me, and I know when to do what I'm told—quite as much as what I'm not told. She wanted to find out about me. I mean from your little creature; a pearl of fidelity, by the way."
"But what on earth did she come up for?" Mamie again found herself appealing, and, just by that fact, showing her need of help.
"Because she always goes up." Then, as, in the
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