an immense power for
good."

"An immense power for quackery, my dear Miss Olive!" This broke from
Basil's lips in spite of a vow he had just taken not to say anything
that should "aggravate" his hostess, who was in a state of tension it
was not difficult to detect. But he had lowered his tone to friendly
pleading, and the offensive word was mitigated by his smile.

She moved away from him, backwards, as if he had given her a push. "Ah,
well, now you are reckless," Mrs. Luna remarked, drawing out her ribbons
before the mirror.

"I don't think you would interfere if you knew how little you understand
us," Miss Chancellor said to Ransom.

"Whom do you mean by 'us'--your whole delightful sex? I don't understand
_you_, Miss Olive."

"Come away with me, and I'll explain her as we go," Mrs. Luna went on,
having finished her toilet.

Ransom offered his hand in farewell to his hostess; but Olive found it
impossible to do anything but ignore the gesture. She could not have let
him touch her. "Well, then, if you must exhibit her to the multitude,
bring her on to New York," he said, with the same attempt at a light
treatment.

"You'll have _me_ in New York--you don't want any one else!" Mrs. Luna
ejaculated, coquettishly. "I have made up my mind to winter there now."

Olive Chancellor looked from one to the other of her two relatives, one
near and the other distant, but each so little in sympathy with her, and
it came over her that there might be a kind of protection for her in
binding them together, entangling them with each other. She had never
had an idea of that kind in her life before, and that this sudden
subtlety should have gleamed upon her as a momentary talisman gives the
measure of her present nervousness.

"If I could take her to New York, I would take her farther," she
remarked, hoping she was enigmatical.

"You talk about 'taking' her, as if you were a lecture-agent. Are you
going into that business?" Mrs. Luna asked.

Ransom could not help noticing that Miss Chancellor would not shake
hands with him, and he felt, on the whole, rather injured. He paused a
moment before leaving the room--standing there with his hand on the knob
of the door. "Look here, Miss Olive, what did you write to me to come
and see you for?" He made this inquiry with a countenance not destitute
of gaiety, but his eyes showed something of that yellow light--just
momentarily lurid--of which mention has been made. Mrs. Luna was on her