respectful to her, and she a shade more gentle and considerate to him,
as to a child. For she was generous and did not forgive by halves. There
were moments of nervous irritation, of course, and of sentimental
regret. On the whole, though, Edith was glad she had acted as she did.
But if occasionally she felt her life a little dull and flat, if she
missed some of the excitement of that eventful year, it was impossible
for anyone to see it by her manner.

What could Madame Frabelle possibly know about it? What did that lady
really suppose was the matter?

* * * * *

'What do you think I'm unhappy about?' Edith repeated.

Madame Frabelle, as has been mentioned, was willing to tell her. She
told her, as usual, with fluency and inaccuracy.

Edith was much amused to find how strangely mistaken was this
authoritative lady as to her intuitions, how inevitably _a faux_ with
her penetrations and her instinctive guesses. Madame Frabelle said that
she believed Edith was beginning to feel the dawn of love for someone,
and was struggling against it. (The struggle of course in reality had
long been over.)

Who was the person?

'I haven't met him yet,' Madame Frabelle said; 'but isn't there a name I
hear very often? Your husband is always talking about him; he told me I
was to make the acquaintance of this great friend of his. Something