"Yes, yes, yes!" cried Edith, her eyes dancing.

"Then, what are you doing here with a man who isn't your husband?"
demanded Mrs. Rodney, suddenly aflame.

"I can explain everything to you later on, Mrs. Rodney," interposed Mrs.
Odell-Carney calmly. She had divined at least a portion of the truth,
and she was clever enough to put herself on the right side. Edith cast
an involuntary look of surprise at the Englishwoman. "I have known
everything from the first. Mrs. Medcroft and I are closer friends than
you may have thought." She gave Edith a meaning look, and a moment later
was whispering to her in a private corner of the private office: "My
dear, I don't know what it means, but you must tell me everything as
soon as possible. I am your friend. Whatever it all is, it's ripping!"

There was a great deal of pow-wowing and chatter, charges and
refutations, excuses and explanations. Mr. Medcroft finally waved every
one aside in the most _dégagé_ manner imaginable.

"Don't crowd me! Hang it all, I'm not a curiosity. There isn't anything
to go crazy about. My friend, Mr. Brock, has just done me a trifling
favour. That's all. The whole story will be in the London papers this
morning. Buy 'em. I'm going up to my wife's room to see my baby. I'll
come down and explain everything when I've had a bit of a breathing
spell. It's annoying to have had this fuss about a simple little matter
of generosity on the part of my friend, who, I've no doubt, has been a
most exemplary husband. I'll see to it, by Gad, that he receives the
proper apologies. And, for that matter, my wife may have something to
say about the outrage that has been perpetrated."