racter, Emmy
gradually took him into her confidence, until Septimus knew things that
Zora did not dream of. Zora, who had been married, and had seen the world
from Nunsmere Pond to the crater of Mount Vesuvius, treated her sister with
matronly indulgence, as a child to whom Great Things were unrevealed. She
did not reckon with the rough-and-tumble experiences of life which a girl
must gain from a two years' battle on the stage. In fact, she did not
reckon with any of the circumstances of Emmy's position. She herself was
too ignorant, too much centered as yet in her own young impulses and
aspirations, and far too serene in her unquestioning faith in the
impeccability of the Oldrieve family. To her Emmy was still the
fluffy-haired little sister with caressing ways whom she could send
upstairs for her work-basket or could reprimand for a flirtation. Emmy knew
that Zora loved her dearly; but she was the least bit in the world afraid
of her, and felt that in affairs of the heart she would be unsympathetic.
So Emmy withheld her confidence from Zora, and gave it to Septimus.
Besides, it always pleases a woman more to tell her secrets to a man than
to another woman. There is more excitement in it, even though the man be as
unmoved as a stock-fish.

Thus it fell out that Septimus heard of Mordaunt Prince, whose constant
appearance in Emmy's London circle of friends Zora had viewed with
plentiful lack of interest. He was a paragon of men. He acted like a
Salvini and sang like an angel. He had been far too clever to take his
degree at Oxford. He had just bought a thousand-guinea motor car,
and--Septimus was not to whisper a word of it to Zora--she had recently
been on a three-days' excursion with him. Mordaunt Prince said this and
Mordaunt Prince said that. Mordaunt paid three guineas a pair for his brown
boots. He had lately divorced his wife, an unspeakable creature only too
anxious for freedom. Mordaunt came to see her every day in London, and
every day during their absence they corresponded. Her existence was wrapped
up in Mordaunt Prince. She traveled about with a suit-case (or so it
appeared to Septimus) full of his photographs. He had been the leading man
at the theater where she had her last engagement, and had fallen madly,
devotedly, passionately in love with her. As soon as the divorce was made
absolute they would be married. She had quarreled with her best friend, who
had tried to make mischief between them with a view