uld ask herself, logically, one
moment. And at the next her heart would reply, "Everything. He is all
that you have in the world in the way of 'family,' for he _is_ more than
friend to you." "Yes," Rose would admit, "I am afraid for him, I could
not be more so if he were really my brother. She isn't worthy of
him--I've known that, somehow, since the first day that he tried to tell
me about her. But that isn't the point. Love is blind, and, if her
faithlessness hurts him, I will hate her always. I hate her _now_. She
has spoiled my day, and I know that I have hurt Gertrude and Philip, for
they can't understand what the trouble is."

The idea passed over and over through the endless labyrinth of her brain
and found no escape, while she ate the noonday meal, and later changed
from her white uniform to a plain blue serge walking dress, and black
sailor hat. Ever with it went the accompanying thought, "I _must_ see
her." To what end she did not know or seriously attempt to analyze. Rose
was not the first to take up cudgels in a lost cause, spurred thereto by
a purpose which was incapable of receiving any logical explanation. It
was the "mother spirit," fighting for its own.

* * * * *

A maid opened the door on Beacon street in response to her ring, and, on
entering the hall, Rose found herself face to face with Marion
Treville. She was clad for the street and was at that moment in the act
of buttoning a long white glove. As she recognized the visitor, a deep
flush mounted quickly on the patrician face of the older woman and, for
an instant, her teeth caught her lower lip.

Smiles' face was very pale, so pale that her large eyes by contrast
appeared almost startling in their depth and color. There was a gossamer
film of dust on her shoes and the bottom of her skirt, for she had
walked all the way from the hospital, and she realized this fact with a
sense of chagrin, when she saw Miss Treville's eyes travel to her feet,
and mentally contrasted her own appearance with that of the perfectly
appointed daughter of wealth before her.

Neither spoke for an instant. It was as though each were trying to read
the thoughts of the other. Then Miss Treville said in a cool, even tone,
"You may go, Louise."

The maid vanished silently, with one curious backward glance as she
passed through the door at the end of the hallway.

"Miss ... Webb, isn't it? You wished to see ...?"

"Tell me that it isn't t