nothing. I listened to you once, and I was a fool. You could as soon
teach me to believe that you were a saint, as that Mannering had anything
in his past or present life of which he was ashamed. Now, Hortense."

Borrowdean walked off, still smiling. How simple half the world was.




CHAPTER IX

THE PUMPING OF MRS. PHILLIMORE


Hester sprang to her feet eagerly as she heard the front door close, and
standing behind the curtain she watched the man, who was already upon the
pavement looking up and down the street for a hansom. His erect,
distinguished figure was perfectly familiar to her. It was Sir Leslie
Borrowdean again.

She resumed her seat in front of the typewriter, and touched the keys
idly. In a few moments what she had been expecting happened. Her mother
entered the room.

Of her advent there were the usual notifications. An immense rustling
of silken skirts, and an overwhelming odour of the latest Bond Street
perfume. She flung herself into a chair, and regarded her daughter with
a complacent smile.

"That delightful man has been to see me again," she exclaimed. "I could