he needed and engineer his mother-in-law out of the United States.

Some time, however, he would have it out with his wife. Being a business
man and always alert to outwit the other man, he wanted neither intrigue
nor mystery in his home, but a serene happiness founded upon perfect
confidence. He found it impossible to remain appalled or angry at his
wife's readiness of resource in guarding a family secret that must have
shocked the youth in her almost out of existence.

He patted her hand, and felt its chill within the glove.

"It was like you never to have mentioned it," he murmured. "For, of
course, it is quite impossible."

"That is what I told her decidedly to-night, and I do not think she will
ask again. It hurts me to refuse dear maman anything. Her devotion to me
has been wonderful--but wonderful," she added on a defiant note.

"A mother's devotion, particularly to a girl of your sort, does not make
any call upon my exclamation points. But here we are."

* * * * *

The car rolled up the graded driveway Gwynne had built for the old San
Francisco house that before his day had been approached by an almost
perpendicular flight of wooden steps. They were late and the company
had assembled: the Thorntons, Trennahans, and eight or ten young
people, all of whom would be chaperoned by the married women to the
dance at the Fairmont.