emanded; and when Thorne arched his brows,
"Oh, you needn't look as if you thought it wasn't my business. I've a
right to ask after him, at any rate, for old acquaintance' sake."

"I'm sorry to hear you take so much interest in him," he rejoined.

"Why? You may keep your sorrow for your own affairs: I'll manage mine. I
can take very good care of myself, I assure you, and I won't trouble you
to be sorry for me," said Lydia shortly. I do not think she had ever
spoken to a young man before and been unconscious that it _was_ a young
man to whom she spoke. But she was utterly heedless of Percival as she
questioned him, and he perceived it, and preferred this angry mood.
"Can't you tell me anything about him?" said the girl. "Is he
well--happy?"

"He writes in the best of spirits."

Lydia advanced a step or two: "And is it all true what they are saying?
He has married this young lady?"

"Yes, he has married her."

"And do you suppose he cares for her?" said Lydia slowly.

Thome's brows went up again: "Really, Miss Bryant--"

"Because if he does, he has told lies enough: that's all."

("And he isn't a miracle of honor if he doesn't," said Percival.)

"But that's quite likely," Lydia went on, unheeding. "I knew all the
time that he didn't mean any good. He thought I believed him, but I
didn't--not more than half, anyhow. But when he went away I didn't guess
it was for this."

"You knew he was going?" Thorne said.

Lydia half smiled, in conscious superiority.

"You don't seem to have served yourself particularly well by keeping his
secrets. You are deceived at last, like the rest."

"Well, if I haven't served myself I've served him," said Lydia. "And I
don't know but what I am glad of it. He wasn't as stuck-up and proud as
some people. One likes to be looked at and spoken to as if one wasn't
dirt under people's feet. And, after all, I don't see that there's any
harm done." There were red rims to Lydia's eyes, telling of tears which
must surely have been too persistent to pass for tears of joy at the
tidings of Bertie's elopement. "I suppose a marriage like that is all
right?" she asked with a quick glance.

"Of course--no doubt of it," said Percival very shortly. He had pitied
her a moment earlier.

"Ah! I supposed so. But things ain't always all right when people run
away. And the money's all right too, is it?"

"Some of it, at any rate," said Thorne, taking a book from the table.

"Wouldn't he be sure to