don't let all the good
feeling be on one side. You have no idea how kindly she speaks of you,
and how anxious she is to help us to be married. Come! come! meet her
half-way. Write down the name of the shop on my card, and I will take it
back to her."

Sheer amazement kept me silent: I let him go on. He was a mere child in
the hands of Mrs. Tenbruggen: she had only to determine to make a fool
of him, and she could do it.

But why did she do it? What advantage had she to gain by insinuating
herself in this way into his good opinion, evidently with the intention
of urging him to reconcile us to each other? How could we two poor young
people be of the smallest use to the fashionable Masseuse?

My silence began to irritate Philip. "I never knew before how obstinate
you could be," he said; "you seem to be doing your best--I can't imagine
why--to lower yourself in my estimation."

I held my tongue; I assumed my smile. It is all very well for men to
talk about the deceitfulness of women. What chance (I should like to ask
somebody who knows about it) do the men give us of making our lives with
them endurable, except by deceit! I gave way, of course, and wrote down
the address of the shop.

He was so pleased that he kissed me. Yes! the most fondly affectionate
kiss that he had given me, for weeks past, was my reward for submitting
to Mrs. Tenbruggen. She is old enough to be his mother, and almost as
ugly as Miss Jillgall--and she has made her interests his interests
already!

On the next day, I fully expected to receive a visit from Mrs.
Tenbruggen. She knew better than that. I only got a polite little note,
thanking me for the address, and adding an artless concession: "I earn
more money than I know what to do with; and I adore Irish lace."

The next day came, and still she was careful not to show herself too
eager for a personal reconciliation. A splendid nosegay was sent to me,
with another little note: "A tribute, dear Helena, offered by one of my
grateful patients. Too beautiful a present for an old woman like me.
I agree with the poet: 'Sweets to the sweet.' A charming thought of
Shakespeare's, is it not? I should like to verify the quotation. Would
you mind leaving the volume for me in the hall, if I call to-morrow?"

Well done, Mrs. Tenbruggen! She doesn't venture to intrude on Miss
Gracedieu in the drawing-room; she only wants to verify a quotation
in the hall. Oh, goddess of Humility (if there is such a perso