"Very likely," he admitted carelessly, "and yet, nowadays, it is a little
difficult, isn't it, to do anything really worth doing, and not be found
out? They say that the press is lynx-eyed."

Louise leaned a little forward in her chair.

"And you," she remarked, "are an editor! Do you feel quite safe, Amy? Mr.
Wrayson may rob us of our most cherished secrets."

Her eyes challenged his, her lips were parted in a slight smile.
Underneath the levity of her remark, he was fully conscious of the
undernote of serious meaning.

"I am not afraid of Mr. Wrayson," the Baroness answered, smiling. "My age
and my dressmaker are the only two things I keep entirely to myself, and
I don't think he is likely to guess either."

"And you?" he asked, looking into her companion's eyes.

"There are many things," she answered, in a low tone, "which one keeps
to oneself, because confidences with regard to them are impossible.
And yet--"

She paused. Her eyes seemed to be following out the mystic design painted
upon her fan.

"And yet?" he reminded her under his breath.

"Yet," she continued, glancing towards the Baroness, and lowering her