going to end!" And for the first time in her life she felt like
fainting.

She went hurriedly over to the cupboard and poured herself out a
glass of port wine. "I had almost forgotten my tonic," she said. "It
has made me quite well again."

"Your improvement is nothing short of miraculous," said the old lady
drily. "It is the talk of the town. But you are ungrateful if you
don't give all those interesting books some of the credit. I hope
Howard is properly grateful to Mr. Masters.... By the way, my young
friend, the men complain that you are never seen at the Club during
the afternoon any more. That is ungrateful, if you like!--for they
all think you are the brightest man out here, and would rather hear
you talk than eat--or drink, which is more to the point. Now, I must
go, dear. I won't intrude any longer. It has been delightful, meeting
two such clever people at once. You are coming to my 'At Home'
tomorrow. I won't take no for an answer."

There was a warning note in her voice. Her pointed remarks had not
been inspired by sheer felinity. It was her purpose to let Madeleine
know that she was in danger of scandal or worse, and that the sooner
she scrambled back to terra firma the better. Of course she could not
refrain from an immediate round of calls upon impatient friends, but
she salved her conscience by asserting roundly (and with entire
honesty) that there was nothing in it as yet. She had seen too much
of the world to be deceived on _that_ point.