stopped him. "I'm glad to find some one still here," she said; for she was with her friend, and having introduced Philip to this lady, she begged him to come and see her. On the next day but one, accordingly, Philip presented himself, and saw Mrs. Dodd alone. She began to talk about Graham; she became very much affected, and with a little more encouragement from Osborne, she would certainly have shed tears. But, somehow, Philip was loth to countenance her grief; he made short responses. Mrs. Dodd struck him as weak and silly and morbidly sentimental. He wondered whether there could have been any truth in the rumor that Graham had cared for her. Not certainly if there was any truth in the story of his passion for Henrietta Congreve. It was impossible that he should have cared for both. Philip made this reflection, but he stopped short of adding that Mrs. Dodd failed signally to please him, because during the past three weeks he had constantly enjoyed Henrietta's society.
For Mrs. Dodd, of course, the transition was easy from Graham to Miss Congreve. "I'm told Miss Congreve is still here," she said. "Have you made her acquaintance?"
"Perfectly," said Philip.
"You seem to take it very easily. I hope you have brought her to a sense of her iniquities. There's a task, Mr. Osborne. You ought to convert her."
"I've not attempted to convert her. I've taken her as she is."
"Does she wear mourning for Mr. Graham? It's the least she can do."
"Wear mourning? " said Philip. "Why, she has been going to a party every other night."
"Of course I don't suppose she has put on a black dress. But does she mourn here?" And Mrs. Dodd laid her hand on her heart.
"You mean in her heart? Well, you know, it's problematical that she has one."
"I suppose she disapproves of suicide," said Mrs. Dodd, with a little acrid smile. "Bless my soul, so do I."
"So do I, Mrs. Dodd," said Philip. And he remained for a moment thoughtful. "I wish to heaven," he cried, "that Graham were here! It seems to me at moments that he and Miss Congreve might have come to an understanding again."
Mrs. Dodd threw out her hands in horror. "Why, has she given up her last lover?"
"Her last lover? Whom do you mean?"
"Why, the man I told you of—Mr. Holland."
Philip appeared quite to have forgotten this point in Mrs. Dodd's recital. He broke into a loud, nervous laugh. "I'll be hanged," he cried, "if I know! One thing is certain," he pursued, with emphasis, recovering himself; "Mr. Holland—whoever he is—has for the past three weeks seen nothing of Miss Congreve."
Mrs. Dodd sat silent, with her eyes lowered. At last, looking up, "You, on the other hand, I infer," she said, "have seen a great deal of her."
"Yes, I've seen her constantly."
Mrs. Dodd raised her eyebrows and distended her lips in a smile which was emphatically not a smile. "Well, you'll think it an odd question, Mr. Osborne," she said, "but how do you reconcile your intimacy with Miss Congreve with your devotion to Mr. Graham?"
Philip frowned—quite too severely for good manners. Decidedly, Mrs.
