ulated each of her
friends half a dozen times; she kissed Mrs. Vivian again, she almost
kissed Bernard; she inquired about details; she longed to hear all
about Angela's "things." Of course they would stop for the wedding;
but meantime she must be very discreet; she must not intrude too
much. Captain Lovelock addressed to Angela a few fragmentary, but
well-intentioned sentences, pulling his beard and fixing his eyes on the
door-knob--an implement which presently turned in his manly fist, as he
opened the door for his companion to withdraw. Blanche went away in a
flutter of ejaculations and protestations which left our three friends
in Mrs. Vivian's little drawing-room standing looking at each other as
the door closed behind her.

"It certainly would have been better taste in him to tell her,"
said Bernard, frowning, "and not let other people see how little
communication there is between them. It has mortified her."

"Poor Mr. Wright had his reasons," Mrs. Vivian suggested, and then she
ventured to explain: "He still cares for Angela, and it was painful to
him to talk about her marrying some one else."

This had been Bernard's own reflection, and it was no more agreeable as
Mrs. Vivian presented it; though Angela herself seemed indifferent to
it--seemed, indeed, not to hear it, as if she were thinking of something
else.

"We must simply marry as soon as possible; to-morrow, if necessary,"
said Bernard, with some causticity. "That 's the best thing we can do
for every one. When once Angela is married, Gordon will stop thinking
of her. He will never permit his imagination to hover about a married
woman; I am very sure of that. He does n't approve of that sort of
thing, and he has the same law for himself as for other people."

"It does n't matter," said Angela, simply.

"How do you mean, my daughter, it does n't matter?"

"I don't feel obliged to feel so sorry for him now."

"Now? Pray, what has happened? I am more sorry than ever, since I have
heard poor Blanche's dreadful tone about him."

The girl was silent a moment; then she shook her head, lightly.

"Her tone--her tone? Dearest mother, don't you see? She is intensely in
love with him!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

This observation struck Bernard as extremely ingenious and worthy of his
mistress's fine intelligence; he greeted it with enthusiasm, and thought
of it for the next twelve hours. The more he thought of it the more
felicitous it seemed to him, a