aware of her glance, hastened to her. Madame von Marwitz
laid an arm about her neck. "I must bid you good-night, _ma cherie_. I
am very tired."

"Tante, dear, I saw that you were so tired, I am so sorry. It has all
been a weariness to you," Karen murmured.

"No, my child; no," Madame von Marwitz smiled down into her eyes,
passing her hand lightly over the little white-rose wreath. "I have seen
you, and seen you happy; that is happiness enough for me. Good-night,
Mr. Jardine. Karen will come with me."

Pausing for no further farewells, Madame von Marwitz passed from the
room with a majestic, generalized bending of the head.

Betty joined her brother-in-law. "Dear me, Gregory," she said. "We've
had the tragic muse to supper, haven't we. What is the matter, what has
been the matter with Madame von Marwitz? Is she ill?"

"She says she's tired," said Gregory.

"It was disconcerting, wasn't it, her trailing suddenly out of the
dining-room in that singular fashion," said Betty. "Do you know,
Gregory, that I'm getting quite vexed with Madame von Marwitz."

"Really? Why, Betty?"

"Well, it has been accumulating. I'm a very easy-going person, you know;
but I've been noticing that whenever I want Karen, Madame von Marwitz
always nips in and cuts me out, so that I have hardly seen her at all
since her guardian came to London. And then it did rather rile me, I
confess, to find that the one hat in Karen's trousseau that I specially
chose for her is the one--the only one--that Madame von Marwitz objects
to. Karen never wears it now. She certainly behaved very absurdly
to-night, Gregory. I suppose she expected us to sit round in a circle
and stare."

"Perhaps she did," Gregory acquiesced. "Perhaps we should have."

He was anxious to maintain the appearance of bland lightness before
Betty. Karen had re-entered as they spoke and Betty called her to them.
"Tell me, Karen dear, is Madame von Marwitz ill? She didn't give me a
chance to say good-night to her." Betty had the air of wishing to
exonerate herself.

"She isn't ill," said Karen, whose face was grave. "But very tired."

"Now what made her tired, I wonder?" Betty mused. "She looks such a
robust person."

It was bad of Betty, and as Karen stood before them, looking from one to
the other, Gregory saw that she suspected them. Her face hardened. "A
great artist needs to be robust," she said. "My guardian works every day
at her piano for five or six hours."

"Dear me,"