ing made some grumbling remark in which "five thousand dollars" was
the only distinguishable thing, and then they passed out, and Pluto
followed, leaving the Marquise alone, staring out of the window with a
curious smile; she drew a deep breath of relief as the door closed.

CHAPTER XX.

Mrs. McVeigh entered the sitting room some time after and was
astonished to find her still there and alone.

"Why, Judithe, I fancied you had gone to change your habit ages ago,
and here you are, plunged in a brown study."

"No--a blue and green one," was the smiling response. "Have you ever
observed what a paintable view there is from this point? It would be a
gem on canvas; oh, for the talent of our Dumaresque!"

"Your Dumaresque," corrected Mrs. McVeigh. "I never can forgive you,
quite, for sending him away; oh, Helene wrote me all about it--and he
_was_ such a fine fellow."

"Yes, he was," and Judithe gave a little sigh ending in a smile; "but
one can't keep forever all the fine fellows one meets, and when they
are so admirable in every way as Dumaresque, it seems selfish for one
woman to capture them."

Mrs. McVeigh shook her head hopelessly over such an argument, but
broke a tiny spray of blossom from a plant and fastened it in the
lapel of Judithe's habit.

"It is not so gorgeous as the rose, but it is at least free from the
pests."

Judithe looked down at the blossom admiringly. "I trust Mr. Loring
will forgive my panic--I fear it annoyed him."

"Oh, no--not really. He is a trifle eccentric, but his invalidism
gains him many excuses. There is no doubt but that you made a decided
impression on him."

"I hope so," said Judithe.

Margeret entered the room just then, and with her hand on the door
paused and stared at the stranger who was facing her. Judithe,
glancing up, saw a pair of strange dark eyes regarding her. She
noticed how wraith-like the woman appeared, and how the brown dress
she wore made the sallow face yet more sallow. A narrow collar and
cuffs of white, and the apron, were the only sharp tones in the
picture; all the rest was brown--brown hair tinged with grey rippling
back from the broad forehead, brown eyes with a world of patience and
sadness in them and slender, sallow-looking hands against the white
apron.

She looked like none of the house servants at the Terrace--in fact
Judithe was a trifle puzzled as to whether she was a servant at all.
She had not a feature suggesting colored blood