bel was doing her best to be friendly--"have you nice
rooms? Dick tells me you live all alone; I mean that your home is not
there."

"I live in an attic," Joan answered again, "and I have no home."

"Your son is ever so much too fond of the theatre," Fanny's voice broke
across their monosyllabic conversation. "He is there every night, Mrs.
Grant."

"And do you also go to the theatre every night?" Joan heard the
petrified astonishment in Mrs. Grant's tone and caught the agitated
glance which Mabel directed to Dick. The misery in her woke to sharp
temper.

"Fanny has let the cat out of the bag," she said, leaning forward and
speaking directly to Mrs. Grant. "But I am afraid it is unpleasantly
true. We are on the stage, you know; Dr. Grant ought to have warned you;
it was hardly fair to let you meet us without telling you."

A pained silence fell on the party; Mrs. Grant's face was a perfect
study; Dick's had flushed dull red. Mabel stirred uneasily and made an
attempt to gather her diplomacy about her.

"It was not a case of warning us," she began; "you forget that we saw
you ourselves the other night when you played _The Merry Widow_. Won't
you have some more tea, Miss Leicester?"--Joan had been introduced to
them under that name.

A great nervousness had descended upon Fanny. She had talked a great
deal too much, she knew, and probably Joan was furiously angry with her.
But beyond that was the knowledge that she had--as she would have
expressed it herself--upset Joan's apple-cart. Real contrition shone in
the nervous smile she directed at Mrs. Grant.

"I'm that sorry," she said, "if I have said anything that annoyed you;
but you mustn't mix me up with Joan; she is quite different. I----"

"Fanny!" Joan interrupted the jumbled explanation. "You have nothing to
apologize for. We eat and look very much like ordinary people, don't
we?"--she stared at Mabel as she spoke--"it is only just our manners,
and morals that are a trifle peculiar. If you are ready, Fanny, I think
we had better be getting back."

Dick stood up abruptly; he did not meet Mabel's eyes, but she could see
that his face was very white and angry.

"I am driving you back," he said, "if you do not mind waiting here I
will fetch the motor round."

He took the girl's side straight away without hesitation. Mabel caught
her breath on the bitter words that rose to her lips. Joan's outburst
had been an extraordinary breach of good manners; nothing tha