y the Dean. "Don't you ever see Mrs.
Houghton now?" he asked.

"No, papa," said Mary, with prompt decision.

"Why not?"

"I don't like her."

"Why don't you like her? You used to be friends. Have you quarrelled?"

"Yes; I have quarrelled with her."

"What did she do?" Mary was silent. "Is it a secret?"

"Yes, papa; it is a secret. I would rather you would not ask. But she
is a nasty vile creature, and I will never speak to her again."

"That is strong language, Mary."

"It is. And now that I have said that, pray don't talk about her any
more."

The Dean was discreet, and did not talk about Mrs. Houghton any more;
but he set his mind to work to guess, and guessed something near the
truth. Of course he knew that his son-in-law had professed at one time
to love this lady when she had been Miss De Baron, and he had been able
to see that subsequently to that they had been intimate friends. "I
don't think, my dear," he said, laughing, "that you can be jealous of
her attractions."

"I am not in the least jealous of her, papa. I don't know anyone that I
think so ugly. She is a nasty made-up thing. But pray don't talk about
her anymore." Then the Dean almost knew that Mary had discovered
something, and was too noble to tell a story against her husband.

The day but one before she was to leave town Mrs. Montacute Jones came
to her. She had seen her kind old friend once or twice since the
catastrophe at the ball, but always in the presence of other persons.
Now they were alone together. "Well, my dear," said Mrs. Jones, "I hope
you have enjoyed your short season. We have all been very fond of you."

"You have been very kind to me, Mrs. Jones."

"I do my best to make young people pleasant, my dear. You ought to have
liked it all, for I don't know anybody who has been so much admired.
His Royal Highness said the other night that you were the handsomest
woman in London."

"His Royal Highness is an old fool," said Mary, laughing.

"He is generally thought to be a very good judge in that matter. You
are going to keep the house, are you not?"

"Oh, yes; I think there is a lease."

"I am glad of that. It is a nice little house, and I should be sorry to
think that you are not coming back."

"We are always to live here half the year, I believe," said Mary. "That
was agreed when we married, and that's why I go away now."

"Lord George, I suppose, likes the country best?"

"I think he does. I don't, Mrs. Jones."