way, I'd grab up any old thing and hit him
quick, so's to get it in before he hit me. Well, I was awfully sorry,
and I said, 'Why, hold on a minute, Paul, let me tell you--' but he said
he guessed I'd told him about enough, and before I could open my mouth
he dropped off the car. We'd got in as far as Hayes Avenue. I wanted to
explain, you know, that the Frenchman was old enough to be our
_grandfather_!"

"When did this happen?"

"Oh, I don't know; three or four days ago--why, Thursday, it must have
been, for after I got through with Briggs I went on to that--"

"And this is Monday," said Lydia; "four days."

At the sight of her sister-in-law's troubled eyes, Madeleine was again
overcome with facile remorse. She clapped her on the shoulder
hearteningly. "I'm awfully sorry, Lyd, but don't you go being afraid of
Paul. You're too gentle with him, anyhow. A married woman can't afford
to be. You have to keep the men in their places, and you can't do that
if you don't knock 'em the side of the head once in so often. It's good
for 'em. Honest! And about this, don't you worry your head a minute.
Like as not Paul's forgot everything about it. He'd forget anything, you
know he would, if an interesting job came up in business. And if he ever
does say anything, you just laugh and tell him about old Thingamajig's
white hair and pop eyes, and he'll laugh at the joke on himself."

Lydia drew back with a gesture of extreme repugnance. "Don't talk so--as
though Paul could be so--so vulgar."

Madeleine laughed. "I guess you won't find a man in _this_ world that
isn't 'vulgar' that way."

"Why, I've been _married_ to Paul for years--he wouldn't think I--no
matter what you told him, he couldn't conceive of my--"

Mrs. Lowder, as usual, found her brother's wife very diverting. "Of your
doing a little hand-holding on the side? Oh, go on! Flirting's no
crime! And you did--honest to goodness, you did, turn that old fellow's
head. You ought to have seen the way he looked after you."

Lydia cut her off with a sharp "Oh, _don't_!" She was now sitting, still
absently grasping the dust-cloth.

Madeleine stood for a moment looking at her in a meditative silence
rather unusual for her. "Lydia, you don't look a bit well," she said
kindly. "Are you still bothered with that nausea?" She sat down by her
sister-in-law and put her arms around her with an impulse of
affectionate pity that almost undid Lydia, always so helplessly
responsive to te