eeable; she had acquired the _art_ of
tranquillity. This long anticipated interview with her daughter's cast-
off, bewildered lover was inevitable. They had known that he would come,
insistent. She had not kept him waiting. When he came to the house the day
after his arrival from England, following close upon a cablegram sent the
day after the news of Anne's defection had struck him like a thunderbolt,
she was ready to receive him.

And now, quite as calmly and indifferently, she was ready to say good-bye
to him forever,--to this man who until a fortnight before had considered
himself, and rightly too, to be the affianced husband of her daughter. He
meant nothing to her. Her world was complete without him. He possessed her
daughter's love,--and all the love she would ever know perhaps,--but even
that did not produce within her the slightest qualm. Doubtless Anne would
go on loving him to the end of her days. It is the prerogative of women
who do not marry for love; it is their right to love the men they do not
marry provided they honour the men they do, and keep their skirts clear
besides.

Mrs. Tresslyn felt, and honestly too, that her own assurances that Anne
loved him would be quite as satisfactory as if Anne were to utter them
herself. It all came to the same thing, and she had an idea that she could
manage the situation more ably than her daughter.

And Mrs. Tresslyn was quite sure that it would come out all right in the
end. She hadn't the remotest doubt that Anne could marry Braden later on,
if she cared to do so, and if nothing better offered; so what was there to
worry about? Things always shape themselves after the easiest possible
fashion. It wasn't as if she was marrying a young man with money. Mrs.
Tresslyn had seen things shape themselves before. Moreover, she rather
hated the thought of being a grandmother before she was fifty. And so it
was really a pleasure to turn this possible son-in-law out of her house
just at this time. It would be a very simple matter to open the door to
him later on and invite him in.

She stood beside her hearth and watched him go with a calm and far from
uneasy eye. He would come again to-morrow, perhaps,--but even at his worst
he could not be a dangerous visitor. He was a gentleman. He was a bit
distressed. Gentlemen are often put to the test, and they invariably
remain gentlemen.

He stopped at the door. "Will you tell Anne that I'll be here to-morrow,
Mrs. Tresslyn?"