like idiots--it was the most harrowing thing I ever heard--"

"What DID you hear?" Glennard asked; and his wife interposed:
"Won't you have another bit of cake, Julia? Or, Stephen, ring for
some hot toast, please." Her tone betrayed a polite satiety of
the topic under discussion. Glennard turned to the bell, but Mrs.
Armiger pursued him with her lovely amazement.

"Why, the "Aubyn Letters"--didn't you know about it? The girl
read them so beautifully that it was quite horrible--I should have
fainted if there'd been a man near enough to carry me out."

Hartly's glee redoubled, and Dresham said, jovially, "How like you
women to raise a shriek over the book and then do all you can to
encourage the blatant publicity of the readings!"

Mrs. Armiger met him more than half-way on a torrent of self-
accusal. "It WAS horrid; it was disgraceful. I told your wife we
ought all to be ashamed of ourselves for going, and I think Alexa
was quite right to refuse to take any tickets--even if it was for
a charity."

"Oh," her hostess murmured, indifferently, "with me charity begins
at home. I can't afford emotional luxuries."

"A charity? A charity?" Hartly exulted. "I hadn't seized the
full beauty of it. Reading poor Margaret Aubyn's love-letters at
the Waldorf before five hundred people for a charity! WHAT
charity, dear Mrs. Armiger?"