t friends, including Dicky and myself, had always felt that the
real mature beauty of the woman was being hidden.

"Of course, this is terribly rough on Harry," Lillian said at last,
raising her head from my shoulder, and speaking in as ordinary and
unruffled a tone as if she had not just gone through what in any other
woman would have been a hysterical burst of tears.

"It really isn't fair to him, and under any other conditions in the
world I would not do it. He's pretty well cut up about it, so much so
that he cannot always control his annoyance when he is speaking about
it. But I know you will overlook any little outbreaks of his, won't
you? He wanted to come down here with me, you know he's always anxious
to see you, or I would have run away by myself."

Her tone was anxious, wistful, and my heart ached for her. I could
guess that when Harry Underwood could not "control his annoyance" he
could be very horrid indeed. But I winced at her casual remark that
her husband was always anxious to see me. Harry Underwood held in
restraint by his very real admiration for his brilliant wife had been
annoying enough to me. I did not care to think what he might be when
enraged at her as I knew he must be now.

Nothing of my feeling, however, must I betray to the friend who had
come to me for help and comfort. I drew closer the arms that had not
yet released her.

"Dear girl," I said softly, "don't worry any more about your husband
or anything else. Just consider that you've come home to your sister.
I'm going to keep you awhile now I've got you, and we'll straighten
everything out. Don't even bother to tell me anything about it until
you are fully rested. I can see you've been under some great strain."

"No one can ever realize how great," she returned. "You see--"

What revelation she meant to make to me I did not then learn, for just
at that moment a knock sounded on the door, and in answer to my "come
in," Katie appeared and announced the arrival of the Durkees and
Richard Gordon.

XXXVIII

"NO--NURSE--JUST--LILLIAN"

"Tell me, Madge," Dicky's tone was tense, and I recognized the note of
jealous anger which generally preceded his scenes, "are you going to
have that old goat take you out to dinner? Because if you are--"

He broke off abruptly, as if he thought an unspoken threat would be
more terrifying than one put into words. I knew to what he referred.
As hostess, I, of course, should be escorted in to