"She is a swift and beautiful creature!" said Eleanor, in a warm undertone characteristic of her when she expressed admiration.
"I wish I could have overheard the interview in Miriam's room."
"I never felt more curiosity about anything. Pity one is not a psychological artist. I should have stolen to the keyhole and committed eavesdropping with a glow of self-approval."
"I half understand our friend Mallard."
"So do I, Ned."
They looked at each other and smiled significantly.
That evening Spence again had a walk with the artist. He returned to the villa alone, and only just in time to dress for dinner. Guests were expected, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw of Manchester, old acquaintances of the Spences and of Miriam. When it had become known that Mrs. Baske, advised to pass the winter in a mild climate, was about to accept an invitation from her cousin and go by sea to Naples, the Brad-
