"Me, madame? No. My poor Mees--"

"Leave your poor Mees to me." She took a paper bag from the mantelpiece.
"Go and eat chocolates."

Fixed with a firm and decidedly professional glance, Jeanne stopped
sobbing and rose slowly to her feet.

"Don't listen outside the door. You must have been listening. Wait till
you're rung for. Miss Cynthia will be all right with me. We're going for
a walk. Take her upstairs and put her hat on her, and a thick coat; it's
cold and going to rain, I think."

"A walk, Mary?" Cynthia's sobs stopped, to make way for this protest. The
description of the weather did not sound attractive.

"Yes, yes. Now off with both of you! Here, take the chocolates, Jeanne,
and try to remember that it might have been worse."

Jeanne's brown eyes were eloquent of reproach.

"Captain Cranster might have been found out too late--after the wedding,"
Mary explained with a smile. "Try to look at it like that. Five minutes
to get ready, Cynthia!" She was ready for the weather herself, in the
stout coat and skirt and weather-proof hat in which she had driven the
two-seater on her round that morning.

The disconsolate pair drifted ruefully from the room, though Jeanne did
recollect to take the chocolates. Doctor Mary stood looking down at the