their little plot against Madeleine and elaborated it
carefully, both as to what Carrington should say and how he should say
it, for Sybil asserted that men were too stupid to be trusted even in
making a declaration of love, and must be taught, like little children
to say their prayers. Carrington enjoyed being taught how to make a
declaration of love.

He did not ask where Sybil had learned so much about men's stupidity. He
thought perhaps Schneidekoupon could have thrown light on the subject.
At all events, they were so busily occupied with their schemes and
lessons, that they did not-reach home till Madeleine had become anxious
lest they had met with some accident. The long dusk had become darkness
before she heard the clatter of hoofs on the asphalt pavement, and she
went down to the door to scold them for their delay. Sybil only laughed
at her, and said it was all Mr. Carrington's fault: he had lost his way,
and she had been forced to find it for him.

Ten days more passed before their plan was carried into effect. April
had come. Carrington's work was completed and he was ready to start on
his journey. Then at last he appeared one evening at Mrs. Lee's at the
very moment when Sybil, as chance would have it, was going out to
pass an hour or two with her friend Victoria Dare a few doors away.
Carrington felt a little ashamed as she went. This kind of conspiracy
behind Mrs. Lee's back was not to his taste.

He resolutely sat down, and plunged at once into his subject. He was
almost ready to go, he said; he had nearly completed his work in the
Department, and he was assured that his instructions and papers would be
ready in two days more; he might not have another chance to see Mrs. Lee
so quietly again, and he wanted to take his leave now, for this was what
lay most heavily on his mind; he should have gone willingly and gladly
if it had not been for uneasiness about her; and yet he had till now
been afraid to speak openly on the subject. Here he paused for a moment
as though to invite some reply.

Madeleine laid down her work with a look of regret though not of
annoyance, and said frankly and instantly that he had been too good
a friend to allow of her taking offence at anything he could say; she
would not pretend to misunderstand him. "My affairs," she added with a
shade of bitterness, "seem to have become public property, and I would
rather have some voice in discussing them myself than to know they are
discus