s friends. I feel real disappointed about him. I thought he was a
most agreeable young man. But, as momma says, you never can tell. An' I
reckon Louise is most to blame. Seems like she simply CAN'T exist
without a beau. But I wonder she don't feel ashamed to show herself,
the way she's talked of. Why, the stories I hear about her! ... an'
they're always together. She's gotten her a heap of new things, too--a
millionaire asked her to marry him, when she was in Dresden, but he
wasn't good enough for her, no ma'am, an' all on account of Mr.
Guest.--Yes, indeed. But I must say I feel kind of sorry for him,
anyway. He was a real pleasant young man."

"Maurice Guest is quite able to look after himself," said Madeleine
drily.

"Is that so? Well, I presume you ought to know, you were once so well
acquainted with him--if I may say, Miss Wade, we all thought it was you
was his fancy. Yes, indeed."

"Oh, I always knew he liked Louise."

But this was the chief grudge she, too, bore him: that he had been so
little open with her. His seeming frankness had been merely a feint; he
had gone his own way, and had never really let her know what he was
thinking and planning. She now recalled the fact that Louise had only
once been mentioned between them, since the time of her illness, over
six months ago; and she, Madeleine, had foolishly believed his
reticence to be the result of a growing indifference.

Since the night of the ball, they had shunned each other, by tacit
consent. But, though she could avoid him in person, Madeleine could not
close her cars to the gossipy tales that circulated. In the last few
weeks, too, the rumours had become more clamatory: these two misguided
creatures had obviously no regard for public opinion; and several
times, Madeleine had been obliged to go out of her own way, to escape
meeting them face to face. On these occasions, she told herself that
she had done with Maurice Guest; and this decision was the more easy
as, since the beginning of the year, she had moved almost entirely in
German circles. But now the distasteful tattle was thrust under her
very nose. It seemed to put things in a different light to hear Maurice
pitied and discussed in this very room. In listening to her visitor,
she had felt once more how strong her right of possession was in him;
she was his oldest friend in Leipzig. Now she was ready to blame
herself for having let her umbrage stand in the way of them continuing
friends: ha