diaphanous rose-garlanded skirts of Marguerite
Gautier, laying bare the secrets of her heart to her adoring lover.
Oblivious of Miss Cordova, Pauline rushed at her own lover but did not
embrace him.

"Oh, where is he?" she cried. "What have you done to him?--or with
him? I insist upon the truth; I must know, I must know all. He
followed you!"

"He did, he did. He followed me, as you say, madam, but what of that?"
Crabbe stood, greatly astonished and rather mortified. In the presence
of Miss Cordova, for Pauline to display such concern for the other man
was, to say the least, annoying. To be dignified in his resentment was
to invite ridicule, for the drink still showed in his walk, but he
managed to frown and in other ways show honest astonishment and wrath.
"A nice welcome!" he went on, with difficulty repressing a certain
thickness of utterance and steadying himself as well as he was able,
the chairs being both occupied. "If you mean the parson, if these airs
and sighs, these sulks and tender concerns are for him--you may spare
yourself. He is all right. Though I beg pardon--you never sulk,
Pauline, whatever you do. I'll swear to that, lady dear. 'Tis good
and hot and strong while it lasts, and now I'm back, give it me, for I
know I deserve it. I've been at it again, Pauline. Drink, I mean, my
girl." Tears stood in his eyes.

"I understand. You need explain no further. But what do you mean
about Mr. Ringfield--how is he all right? Where is he? I was afraid,
afraid of something happening to one of you. Sara laughs, but she
doesn't know how I feel."

"And never will!" said Crabbe, giving Pauline's shoulder a clumsy,
caressing pat; "Miss Cordova has her points, but she is not Us, she is
not We of the grand emotional parts! Just a bundle of emotions, nerves
and impulses--that's all you are, madam!"

His affection, breaking through the still thick speech and weakened
movements, was irresistible; Pauline sighed and smiled, shook off her
tremors and allowed herself to descend with him to the dining-room,
where over supper she listened to the recital of his adventure in
Montreal.

"It was the cold then, that made you, that drove you to it again!" she
said thoughtfully.

"Cold, and--and--loneliness. I was lonely, Pauline, and by Heaven--if
you'll really take me, lady dear, the sooner we're married the better.
If your parson were in the house at this moment I should order him to
perform the ceremo