could visualise it for her.
The insufferable dogs, like tethered bubbles, bounded before them,
constantly impeding their progress. Althea was thankful for the excuse
afforded her by the tangling of her feet in the string to pause and
stoop; she felt that her rigid face must betray her. She stooped for a
long moment and hoped that her flush would cover her rigidity. It was
when she raised herself that she saw suddenly in Mrs. Mallison's face
something that gave her more than a suspicion. She didn't suspect her of
cruelty or vulgar vengeance--Gerald's aunt was quite without rancour on
the score of her jilting of him; but she did suspect, and more than
suspect her--it was like the unendurable probing of a wound to feel
it--of idle yet implacable curiosity, and of a curiosity edged, perhaps,
with idle malice. She summoned all her strength. She smiled and shook
her head a little. 'Faithless Gerald! So soon,' she said. 'He is
consoled quickly. No, I never guessed anything at all.'

Mrs. Mallison had again passed her arm through hers and again pressed
it. 'It _is_ soon, isn't it? A sort of _chasse-croise_. But how strange
and fortunate that it should be soon--I know you feel that too.'

'Oh yes, of course, I feel it; it is an immense relief. But they ought
to have told me,' Althea smiled.

'I wonder at that too,' said Mrs. Mallison. 'It is rather bad of them, I
think, when they must know what it would mean to you of joy. When did it
happen, do you suppose?'

Althea wondered. Wonders were devouring her.

'It happened with you quite suddenly, didn't it?' said Mrs. Mallison,
who breathed the soft fragrance of her solicitude into Althea's face as
she leaned her head near and pressed her arm closely.

'Quite suddenly,' Althea replied, 'that is, with me it was sudden.
Franklin, of course, has loved me for a great many years.'

'So he was faithless too, for his little time?'

Althea's brain whirled. 'Faithless? Franklin?'

'I mean, while he made his mistake--while he thought he was in love with
Helen.'

'It wasn't a question of that. It was to be a match of reason, and
friendship--everybody knew,' Althea stammered.

'_Was_ it?' said Mrs. Mallison with deep interest. 'I see, like yours
and Gerald's.'

'Oh----' Althea was not able in her headlong course to do more than
glance at the implications that whizzed past. 'Gerald and I made the
mistake, I think; we believed ourselves in love.'

'_Did_ you?' Mrs. Mallison repea