Flora run to the door to let somebody in, and before I could speak I
heard her say, in that surprised, complaining tone of hers, "Aren't you
going to kiss me?" and then--well, I got up and slammed the door so
hard that the key fell out.

What a fool Artie was? What fools _all_ men were, not to be able to
keep faith with a woman, and such a woman as Cary Farquhar! I rushed
from the study into my room, and burst into a storm of tears, in the
midst of which Aubrey found me.

"Poor little Faith! Poor, discouraged, little match-maker!" he said,
smoothing my hair. But at that last I sat up and shook his hand off.

"It's so _disgusting_ of him!" I stammered. "If you could have heard
him when he was talking about Flora!"

"How do you know it was Artie who came in?" said Aubrey, gently.

I opened my mouth and simply stared at him. Then I went to the glass,
smoothed my hair and straightened my belt.

"Where are you going?" asked my husband.

"I am going to _see_!" I exclaimed. "And if it _isn't_ Artie--if she
is kissing every man that comes into this house, I'll--I'll _kill_ her."

"What! You'll kill her if you find that Artie is not the faithless
wretch you were crying about?"

"Oh, Aubrey! How _can_ you?" I cried.

He tried to catch me as I flew past, but I eluded him, and started
firmly down the long hall. But in spite of myself, my feet dragged.
What was Flora attempting? Did she hate me as her look implied? Did
she love Artie as she declared, or was she simply endeavouring to get
married, and so save herself from a life of teaching, which she openly
detested?

I kept on, however, goaded by my righteous indignation. To my
astonishment I found, not Artie, but the Also Ran, with Flora frankly
in his arms.

They sprang up at my swift entrance, and the man had the grace to look
furiously confused. Flora never even changed colour. I asked no
questions. I simply stood before them in accusing silence. But my
look was black and ominous. Flora gave one swift glance at my
uncompromising attitude, and then, with a modesty and grace and sweet
appealing humility impossible to describe, she came a step toward me,
holding out her arms and saying, plaintively:

"Won't you congratulate me? We are engaged."

I was struck dumb--that is, I would have been struck dumb, if I had not
been rendered not only speechless, but unable to move by the actions of
the man. Entirely unmindful of my presence, he sprang towa