oo. Love--great, solemn, immortal Love,
passionate and suffering--was a thing unknown to comfortable,
commonplace Rose, as doubtless to Peter also. They were dear, good
people, and fortunate in their ignorance and in what it spared them;
but it was annoying when ignorance assumed superior knowledge, and
wanted to teach its grandmother to suck eggs. Was it come to this--that
marriage and a family were synonymous terms? No, indeed, nor ever
would, while intelligent men and women walked the earth. Deb reserved
the more sacred confidences for Mary's ear. Mary had loved--strangely
indeed, but tragically, with pain and loss, the dignified concomitants
of the divine state. Mary would understand.

CHAPTER XXVII.

Mary's house was a chill and meagre contrast to that of Rose, but there
was nothing cold in Mary's welcome. To Deb's 'Darling! darling!' and
smothering embrace of furs, the slim woman responded with a grip and
pressure that represented all her strength. Deb, although not the
eldest, was the mother of the family, as well as the second mother of
Bob.

"Where is he?" were Mary's first words--and Deb smiled inwardly to see
her as absurd in her mother's vanity and preoccupation as Rose herself.
But this was a case of a widow's only son, and the visitor was thankful
for such a beginning to the interview. "Where is he?" cried the anxious
voice. "He was to have met you. And he never fails--this is not like
him--"

"Oh," Deb struck in easily, "he was there all right, looking after his
old aunt like a good boy. He wanted to bring me, but I told him he
could be more useful looking after Rosalie and my things. I thought
we'd rather be by ourselves, Molly--poor old girl! You know I never
heard a word until he told me just now. Your letter did not reach me."

They kissed again, in the passage of the little house.

"You will send away the carriage, Debbie?" Mary urged, without visible
emotion. "There are stables in the next street. You will take off your
hat and stay with me a little?"

"Indeed I will, dearest, if you will have me. Are you alone?"

"Quite alone."

"Where's the old lady?"

"Oh, dead--dead long ago."

"And Ruby?"

Mary looked confused.

"Ruby? Ruby is--don't you know?--an actress in London. Doing very well,
they tell me--"Miss Pearla Gold" in the profession."

"Gracious! Why, I've seen her! Burlesque. Tights. The minx! Well, she
must be coining money, anyhow. I hope she doesn't forget to make