whole year," she said with
conviction.

"Oh dear, dear," said Lady Rose, rising as gracefully as a guardian
angel from her _prie-dieu_.

Molly made no comment, although in her heart she was very angry with
Mrs. Delaport Green. Her quick "Good-night" was very cordially returned
by the other two.

"Now tell me something more about Miss Molly Dexter," said Rose, sinking
on to a tiny footstool at Lady Groombridge's feet as soon as they were
alone.

"I am ashamed to say that I know very little about her; I am simply
furious with myself for having asked them at all. I don't often yield to
kind-hearted impulses, and I'm sure I'm punished enough this time."

Lady Groombridge gave a snort.

"But who is she? Is she one of the Malcot Dexters?"

"Yes; I can tell you that much. She is the daughter of a John Dexter I
used to know a little. He died many years ago, not very long after
divorcing his wife, and this poor girl was brought up by an aunt, and
Sir Edmund says she had a bad time of it. Then she made one of those odd
arrangements people make nowadays, to be taken about by this Mrs.
Delaport Green, and I met them at Aunt Emily's, and, of course, I
thought they were all right and asked them to come here. After that I
heard a little more about the girl from some one in London; I can't
remember who it was now."

"Poor thing," said Rose; "she looks as if she had had a sad childhood.
But what curious eyes; I find her looking through and through me."

"Yes; you have evidently got a marked attraction for her."

"Repulsion, I should have called it," said Rose, with her gentle laugh.

Lady Groombridge laughed too, and got up to go to bed.

"And what became of the mother?"

"She is living--" said the other; then she caught her sleeve in the
table very clumsily, and was a moment or two disengaging the lace. "She
is living," she then said rather slowly, "in Paris, I think it is, but
this girl has never seen her."

"How dreadful!"

"Yes. Good-night, Rose; do get to bed quickly,--a wise remark when it is
I who have been keeping you up!"

Lady Groombridge, when she got to her own room, murmured to herself:

"I only stopped just in time. I nearly said Florence, and that is where
the other wicked woman lives. It's odd they should both live in
Florence. But--how absurd, I'm half asleep--it would be much odder if
there were not two wicked women in Florence."

Sir Edmund was aware as soon as he took his seat by Molly at th