e I was there. Mrs. Sewall is a small woman, always dressed in
black, with a superb string of pearls invariably about her neck, and
lots of brilliant diamonds on her slender fingers. Breck with his heavy
features, black hair brushed straight back, eyes half-closed as if he
was always riding in a fifty-mile gale, deep guffaw of a laugh, and
inelegant speech does not resemble his mother. It is strange, but the
picture that I most enjoyed dwelling upon, when I contemplated my future
life, was one of myself creeping up Fifth Avenue on late afternoons in
the Sewalls' crested automobile, seated, not beside Breck, but in
intimate conversation beside my aristocratic mother-in-law.

As humiliating as it was to me to continue engaged to a man from whose
mother there had been made no sign of welcome or approval, I did so
because Breck plead that Mrs. Sewall was on the edge of a nervous
break-down, and to announce any startling piece of news to her at such a
time would be unwise. I was foolish enough to believe him. I deceived
myself into thinking that my course was allowable and self-respecting.

Breck used to run up from New York to Hilton in his car for Sunday; and
sometimes during the week, in his absurd eagerness, he would dash up to
our door and ring the bell as late as eleven o'clock, simply because he
had been seized with a desire to bid me good-night.

When Edith and I went to New York for a week's shopping we were simply
deluged with attentions from Breck--theater every night, luncheons,
dinners and even breakfasts occasionally squeezed in between. All this,
I supposed, was carried on without Mrs. Sewall's knowledge. I ought to
have known better than to have excused it. It was my fault. I blame
myself. Such an unconventional affair deserved to end in catastrophe.
But to Edith it ended not in spilled milk, but in a spilled pint of her
life's blood.

One night in midsummer when I was just dropping off to sleep, Edith
knocked gently on my door, and then opened it and came in. She was all
ready for bed with her hair braided down her back.

"Asleep?"

"No," I replied. "What's the matter?"

"Did you know Grassmere was open?"

"Why?" I demanded.

"Because, just as I was fixing the curtain in my room I happened to look
up there. It's all lit up, upstairs and down. Even the ball-room. Did
you know about it?"

I had to confess that I didn't. Breck had told me that his mother would
remain in the rented palace at Newport