"I didn't sleep a wink, my dear," began the old lady in her most
conciliatory tones, "not a blessed wink after Horace told me."

The questioning stare in Laura's face had the effect of jerking her up
so hurriedly that the words seemed to trip and stumble upon her lips.

"I might have had it from yourself, of course," she added with an
aggrieved contortion of her features, "but as I was just telling Angela,
I would not for worlds intrude upon your confidence."

"But what has he told you?" asked Laura, curiously, "and what, after
all, did I tell Uncle Horace?"

Mrs. Payne settled herself comfortably back in her chair, and, picking
up a bit of Angela's toast from the tray, nibbled abstractedly at the
crust.

"What under heaven would he have told me but the one thing?" she
demanded. "Mr. Wilberforce has at last proposed."

"At last!" echoed Laura, breaking into a laugh of unaffected merriment.
"Well, he _was_ long about it!"

At the words Angela leaned toward her, stretching out her frail hands in
a pleading gesture.

"Don't marry, Laura," she entreated; "don't--don't marry. There is only
misery from men--misery and regret."

"I believe he has millions," remarked Mrs. Payne, in the tone in which