"As for that, I can read you easily enough," says Lady Rylton, with
a superior air. "You are original, but--yes--I can read you." She
could as easily have read a page of Sanscrit. "It is your
originality I like. I have never, in spite of many things, been in
the least sorry that I gave you a home on the death of
your--er--rather disreputable husband."

Mrs. Bethune looks sweetly at her.

"And _such_ a home!" says she.

"Not a word, not a word," entreats Lady Rylton graciously. "But to
return to Maurice. I shall expect you to help me in this matter,
Marian."

"Naturally."

"I have quite understood your relations with Maurice during the past
year. One, as a matter of course," with a shrug of her dainty
shoulders, "lets the nearest man make love to one---- But Maurice
must marry for money, and so must you."

"You are all wisdom," says Marian, showing her lovely teeth. "And
this girl? She has been here a week now, but as yet you have told me
nothing about her."

"I picked her up!" says Lady Rylton. She lays down her fan--looks
round her in a little mysterious fashion, as though to make doubly
sure of the apparent fact that there is no one in the room but her
niece and herself. "It was the most providential thing," she says;