presence, walked
away in dudgeon. I felt abominably and unreasonably angry. I bethought
me of my Aunt Jessica, whom I held responsible for her niece's
behaviour. A militant mood prompted a call. After twenty minutes in
a hansom I found myself in her drawing-room. She was alone, the girls
being away on country-house visits. Her reception was glacial. I
expressed the hope that the yachting cruise had been a pleasant one.

"Exceedingly pleasant," snapped my aunt.

"I trust Dora is well," said I, keeping from my lips a smile that might
have hinted at the broken heart.

"Very well, thank you."

As I do not enjoy a staccato conversation, I remained politely silent,
inviting her by my attitude to speak.

"I rather wonder, Marcus," she said at last, "at your referring to
Dora."

"Indeed? May I ask why?"

"May I speak plainly?"

"I beseech you."

"I have heard of you at Etretat with your ward."

"Well?" I asked.

"_Verbum sap_," said my aunt.

"And you have let Mrs. Ralph and Rosalie know of my summer holiday
and given them to understand that I am a monster of depravity. I am
exceedingly obliged to you. I have just met Rosalie in the street, and
she shrank from me as if I were the reincarnation of original sin."

"I have no doubt that in her innocent mind you are," replied my Aunt
Jessica.

The indulgent smile wherewith she used to humour my eccentricities had
gone, and her face was hard and unpitying.

"I am glad I have such charitable-minded relations," said I.

"I am a woman of the world," my aunt retorted, "but I think that when
such things are flaunted in the face of society they become immoral."

I rose. "Do evil by stealth--as much as you like," said I, "but blush to
find it fame."

With a gesture my aunt assented to the proposition.

"On the other hand," said I, heatedly, "I have been doing a certain
amount of good both by stealth and openly, and I naturally blush with
indignation to find it accounted infamous."

I looked narrowly into my aunt's eyes and I read in them entire
disbelief in my protest. I swear, if I had proved my innocence beyond
the shadow of doubt, that woman would have been grievously disappointed.

"Good-bye," said I.

She shook hands frigidly and turned to ring the bell. A moment later--I
really believe she was moved by a kindly impulse--she intercepted me at
the door.

"I know you are odd and quixotic, Marcus," she said in a softer tone. "I
hope you will do nothing ras