cupboard and Mrs. Abbott amiably accepted a glass of port, the while
her eyes could hardly tear themselves from the books on the table by
the fire. There were at least a dozen of them and her astute old mind
leapt straight at the truth.

"I thought you had given all your books to the Mercantile Library,"
she remarked wonderingly. "We all thought it so hard on you, but
Howard is set in his ways, poor old thing. He was much too old for
you anyhow. I always said so. But I see he has relented. Have you
been patronizing C. Beach? Nice little book store. I go there myself
at Christmas time--get a set in nice bindings for one of the children
every year."

"Oh, these are borrowed," said Madeleine lightly. "Mr. Masters has
been kind enough to lend them to me."

"Oh--h--h, naughty puss! What would Howard say if he found you out?"

Masters, who stood on the hearth rug, looked down at her with an
expression, which, she afterward confessed, sent shivers up her
spine. "Talbot is a great friend of mine," he said with deliberate
emphasis, "and not likely to object to his wife's sharing my library."

"Don't be too sure. The whole town knows that Howard detests
bluestockings and would rather his wife had a good honest flirtation
than stuffed her brains.... Pretty little head." She tweaked
Madeleine's scarlet ear. "Mustn't put too much in it."

"I'm afraid it doesn't hold much," said Madeleine smiling; and
fancied she heard a bell in her depths toll: "It's going to end! It's