She had spoken of no magazine, but she caught the idea, the clever,
rather wicked idea. He made her work her mind almost too fast sometimes,
but she enjoyed it.

"Wasn't it this?" she asked, with a beating heart.

They sat down on the sofa and bent their heads over it with student-like
absorption.

"I haven't any idea what it is," she whispered.

"Oh, well, I suppose there's something or other in it."

"I think your mother is perfectly wonderful--wonderful."

"I love you so."

The older people took a little longer to settle down. Mr. Lanley stood on
the hearth-rug, with a cigar in his mouth and his head thrown very far
back. Adelaide sank into a chair, looking, as she often did, as if she
had just been brilliantly well posed for a photograph. Farron was
silent. Mrs. Wayne sat, as she had a bad habit of doing, on one foot. The
two groups were sufficiently separated for distinct conversations.

"Is this a conference?" asked Farron.

Mrs. Wayne made it so by her reply.

"The whole question is, Are they really in love? At least, that's my
view."