anything deeper than friendly interest in the "loveliest of her sex"
was manifest. Husbands were ordered to retail the gossip of the Club,
but exploded with fury when tactful pumping forced up the name of
Madeleine Talbot. They were harridans, harpies, old-wives, infernal
scandalmongers. If there was one completely blameless woman in San
Francisco it was Howard Talbot's wife.

No one thought of Langdon Masters.

He appeared more rarely at dinners, and had never ventured in public
with Madeleine even during the summer. When his acute news sense
divined they were gossiping and speculating about her he took alarm
and considered the wisdom of discontinuing his afternoon visits. But
they had become as much a part of his life as his daily bread.
Moreover, he could not withdraw without giving the reason, and it was
a more intimate subject than he cared to discuss with her. Whether he
was in love with her or not was a question he deliberately refused to
face. If the present were destroyed there was no future to take its
place, and he purposed to live in his Fool's Paradise as long as he
could. It was an excellent substitute for tragedy.

But Society soon began to notice that she no longer honored
kettledrums or the more formal afternoon receptions with her
presence, and her calls were few and late. When attentive friends
called on her she was "out." The clerk at the desk had been asked to
protect her, as she "must rest in the afternoon." He suspected
nothing and her word was his law.

When quizzed, Madeleine replied laughingly that she could keep her
restored health only by curtailing her social activities; but she