They went on playing, and in the other room Mrs. Harrington talked
to Luke. Mrs. Ingham-Baker appeared to slumber, but her friend and
hostess suspected her of listening. She therefore raised her voice
at intervals, knowing the exquisite torture of unsatisfied
curiosity, and Mrs. Ingham-Baker heard the word "Fitz," and the
magic syllables "money," more than once, but no connecting phrase to
soothe her aching mental palate.

"And is your life a hard one?" Mrs. Harrington was asking. She had
been leading up to this question for some time--inviting his
confidence, seeking the extent of her own power. A woman is not
content with possessing power; she wishes to see the evidence of it
in the lives of others.

"No," answered Luke, unconsciously disappointing her; "I cannot say
that it is."

He was strictly, sternly on his guard. There was not the faintest
possibility of his ever forgiving this woman.

"And you are getting on in your career?"

"Yes, thank you."

Mrs. Harrington's grey eyes rested on his face searchingly.

"Perhaps I could help you," she said, "with my small influence, or--
or by other means."