. "No?" he said courteously.

"No." Very decidedly came Aunt Philippa's reply. "I intended to speak to
you upon the subject, my dear Trevor, and I am glad that an early
opportunity for so doing has presented itself."

"You think she looks ill?" Mordaunt asked.

"Not at all," said Aunt Philippa. "The intense heat we have had lately is
quite sufficient to account for her jaded looks. She has probably also
been fretting unreasonably over the death of her dog. I believe that
animal was the only thing in the world she ever really cared for."

Mordaunt rested his chin on his hand, and looked at her thoughtfully.
"Indeed!" he said.

Neither his voice nor his face expressed anything whatever beyond a
decorous gravity. Aunt Philippa began to feel slightly exasperated.

"She will get over that," she said, with a confidence that held more of
contempt than tolerance. "None of the Wyndhams are fundamentally capable
of taking anything seriously for long. You must have discovered their
instability for yourself by this time."

"Not with respect to Chris." Was there a hint of sternness underlying the
placidity of the rejoinder? There might have been, but Aunt Philippa was
too intent upon the matter she had taken in hand to notice it.

"Oh, well," she said, "you haven't been married six weeks yet, have you?
You will see what I mean sooner or later. But you may take it from me
that all of them--Chris included--are without an atom of solidity in
their composition. I warn you, Trevor, very seriously; they are not to be
depended upon."

Mordaunt heard her without changing his position. His eyes looked
straight at her from under lids that never stirred. "Is that what you
have to say to me?" he asked, after a moment.

"It leads to what I have to say," returned Aunt Philippa with dignity.

She was quite in her element now, and enjoying herself far too thoroughly
to be lightly disconcerted.

"Pray finish!" he said.

That gave her momentary pause. "I am speaking solely for your welfare,"
she told him.

"I do not question it," he returned.

Yet even she was aware that his stillness was not all the outcome of
courteous attention. There was about it a restraint which made itself
felt, as it were, in spite of him, a dominance which she set down to his
forceful personality.

"The subject upon which I chiefly desire to speak a word of warning," she
said, "is the presence in the house--the constant presence--of your young
French secr