ut the sheep-dog had to be faced. "Of course I knew he wanted to write
a piece about the picture--and about my marriage."

"About your marriage--of course you knew? Then, wretched girl, you're
at the bottom of ALL!" cried Mme. de Brecourt, flinging herself away,
falling back on the sofa, prostrate there and covering her face with her
hands.

"He told me--he told me when I went with him to the studio!" Francie
asseverated loud. "But he seems to have printed more."

"MORE? I should think so!" And Mme. de Brecourt rebounded, standing
before her. "And you LET him--about yourself? You gave him preposterous
facts?"

"I told him--I told him--I don't know what. It was for his paper--he
wants everything. It's a very fine paper," said the girl.

"A very fine paper?" Mme. de Brecourt flushed, with parted lips.
"Have you SEEN, have you touched the hideous sheet? Ah my brother, my
brother!" she quavered again, turning away.

"If your brother were here you wouldn't talk to me this way--he'd
protect me, Gaston would!" cried Francie, on her feet, seizing her
little muff and moving to the door.

"Go away, go away or they'll kill you!" her friend went on excitedly.
"After all I've done for you--after the way I've lied for you!" And she
sobbed, trying to repress her sobs.

Francie, at this, broke out into a torrent of tears. "I'll go home.
Poppa, poppa!" she almost shrieked, reaching the door.

"Oh your father--he has been a nice father, bringing you up in such
ideas!" These words followed her with infinite scorn, but almost as Mme.
de Brecourt uttered them, struck by a sound, she sprang after the girl,
seized her, drew her back and held her a moment listening before
she could pass out. "Hush--hush--they're coming in here, they're too
anxious! Deny--deny it--say you know nothing! Your sister must have said
things--and such things: say it all comes from HER!"

"Oh you dreadful--is that what YOU do?" cried Francie, shaking herself
free. The door opened as she spoke and Mme. de Brecourt walked quickly
to the window, turning her back. Mme. de Cliche was there and Mr.
Probert and M. de Brecourt and M. de Cliche. They entered in silence and
M. de Brecourt, coming last, closed the door softly behind him. Francie
had never been in a court of justice, but if she had had that experience
these four persons would have reminded her of the jury filing back into
their box with their verdict. They all looked at her hard as she stood
in the mi