rence to his wife.

V

'And are you telling me the perfect truth when you say that Captain
Crispin was not there?'

'The perfect truth?' Mrs. Berrington straightened herself to her height,
threw back her head and measured her interlocutress up and down; it is
to be surmised that this was one of the many ways in which she knew she
looked very handsome indeed. Her interlocutress was her sister, and even
in a discussion with a person long since initiated she was not incapable
of feeling that her beauty was a new advantage. On this occasion she had
at first the air of depending upon it mainly to produce an effect upon
Laura; then, after an instant's reflection, she determined to arrive at
her result in another way. She exchanged her expression of scorn (of
resentment at her veracity's being impugned) for a look of gentle
amusement; she smiled patiently, as if she remembered that of course
Laura couldn't understand of what an impertinence she had been guilty.
There was a quickness of perception and lightness of hand which, to her
sense, her American sister had never acquired: the girl's earnest,
almost barbarous probity blinded her to the importance of certain
pleasant little forms. 'My poor child, the things you do say! One
doesn't put a question about the perfect truth in a manner that implies
that a person is telling a perfect lie. However, as it's only you, I
don't mind satisfying your clumsy curiosity. I haven't the least idea
whether Captain Crispin was there or not. I know nothing of his
movements and he doesn't keep me informed--why should he, poor man?--of
his whereabouts. He was not there for me--isn't that all that need
interest you? As far as I was concerned he might have been at the North
Pole. I neither saw him nor heard of him. I didn't see the end of his
nose!' Selina continued, still with her wiser, tolerant brightness,
looking straight into her sister's eyes. Her own were clear and lovely
and she was but little less handsome than if she had been proud and
freezing. Laura wondered at her more and more; stupefied suspense was
now almost the girl's constant state of mind.

Mrs. Berrington had come back from Paris the day before but had not
proceeded to Mellows the same night, though there was more than one
train she might have taken. Neither had she gone to the house in
Grosvenor Place but had spent the night at an hotel. Her husband was
absent again; he was supposed to be in Grosvenor Place, so th