as her own mother would have been had she lived. I know what you mean. How dare you? Aubrey You say that; very likely you believe it. But you’re blind, Paula; you’re blind. You! Every belief that a young, pure-minded girl holds sacred⁠—that you once held sacred⁠—you now make a target for a jest, a sneer, a paltry cynicism. I tell you, you’re not mistress any longer of your thoughts or your tongue. Why, how often, sitting between you and Ellean, have I seen her cheeks turn scarlet as you’ve rattled off some tale that belongs by right to the club or the smoking-room! Have you noticed the blush? If you have, has the cause of it ever struck you? And this is the girl you say you love, I admit that you do love, whose love you expect in return! Oh, Paula, I make the best, the only, excuse for you when I tell you you’re blind! Paula Ellean⁠—Ellean blushes easily. Aubrey You blushed as easily a few years ago. Paula After a short pause. Well! Have you finished your sermon? Aubrey With a gesture of despair. Oh, Paula! Going up to the window and standing with his back to the room. Paula To herself. A few⁠—years ago! She walks slowly towards the door, then suddenly drops upon the ottoman in a paroxysm of weeping. O God! A few years ago! Aubrey Going to her. Paula! Paula Sobbing. Oh, don’t touch me! Aubrey Paula! Paula Oh, go away from me! He goes back a few steps, and after a little while she becomes calmer and rises unsteadily; then in an altered tone. Look here⁠—! He advances a step; she checks him with a quick gesture. Look here! Get rid of these people⁠—Mabel and her husband⁠—as soon as possible! I⁠—I’ve done with them! Aubrey In a whisper. Paula! Paula And then⁠—then⁠—when the time comes for Ellean to leave Mrs. Cortelyon, give me⁠—give me another chance! He advances again, but she shrinks away. No, no! She goes out by the door on the right. He sinks on to the settee, covering his eyes with his hands. There is a brief silence, then a Servant enters. Servant Mrs. Cortelyon, sir, with Miss Ellean. Aubrey rises to meet Mrs. Cortelyon, who enters, followed by Ellean, both being in travelling dresses. The Servant withdraws. Mrs. Cortelyon Shaking hands with Aubrey. Oh, my dear Aubrey! Aubrey Mrs. Cortelyon! Kissing Ellean. Ellean dear! Ellean Papa, is all well at home? Mrs. Cortelyon We’re shockingly anxious. Aubrey Yes, yes, all’s well. This is quite unexpected. To Mrs. Cortelyon. You’ve found Paris insufferably hot? Mrs. Cortelyon Insufferably hot! Paris is pleasant enough. We’ve had no letter from you! Aubrey I wrote to Ellean a week ago. Mrs. Cortelyon Without alluding to the subject I had written to you upon. Aubrey Thinking. Ah, of course⁠— Mrs. Cortelyon And since then we’ve both written and you’ve been absolutely silent. Oh, it’s too bad! Aubrey Picking up the letters from the table. It isn’t altogether my fault. Here are the letters⁠— Ellean Papa! Mrs. Cortelyon They’re unopened. Aubrey An accident delayed their reaching me till this evening. I’m afraid this has upset you very much. Mrs. Cortelyon Upset me! Ellean In an undertone to Mrs. Cortelyon. Never mind. Not now, dear⁠—not tonight. Aubrey Eh? Mrs. Cortelyon To Ellean aloud. Child, run away and take your things off. She doesn’t look as if she’d journeyed from Paris today. Aubrey I’ve never seen her with such a colour. Taking Ellean’s hands. Ellean To Aubrey, in a faint voice. Papa, Mrs. Cortelyon has been so very, very kind to me, but I⁠—I have come home. She goes out. Aubrey Come home! To Mrs. Cortelyon. Ellean returns to us, then? Mrs. Cortelyon That’s the very point I put to you in my letters, and you oblige me to travel from Paris to Willowmere on a warm day to settle it. I think perhaps it’s right that Ellean should be with you just now, although I⁠—My dear friend, circumstances are a little altered. Aubrey Alice, you’re in some trouble. Mrs. Cortelyon Well⁠—yes, I am in trouble. You remember pretty little Mrs. Brereton who was once Caroline Ardale? Aubrey Quite well. Mrs. Cortelyon She’s a widow now, poor thing. She has the entresol of the house where we’ve been lodging in the Avenue de Friedland. Caroline’s a dear chum of mine; she formed a great liking for Ellean. Aubrey I’m very glad. Mrs. Cortelyon Yes, it’s nice for her to meet her mother’s friends. Er⁠—that young Hugh Ardale the papers were full of some time ago⁠—he’s Caroline Brereton’s brother, you know. Aubrey No, I didn’t know. What did he do? I forget. Mrs. Cortelyon Checked one of those horrid mutinies at some faraway station in India, marched down with a handful of his men and a few faithful natives, and held the place until he was relieved. They gave him his company and a V.C. for it. Aubrey And he’s Mrs. Brereton’s brother? Mrs. Cortelyon Yes. He’s with his sister⁠—was, rather⁠—in Paris. He’s home⁠—invalided. Good gracious, Aubrey, why don’t you help me out? Can’t you guess what has occurred? Aubrey Alice! Mrs. Cortelyon Young Ardale⁠—Ellean! Aubrey An attachment? Mrs. Cortelyon Yes, Aubrey. After a little pause. Well, I suppose I’ve got myself into sad disgrace. But really I didn’t foresee anything of this kind. A serious, reserved child like Ellean, and a boyish, high-spirited soldier⁠—it never struck me as being likely. Aubrey paces to and fro thoughtfully. I did all I could directly Captain Ardale spoke⁠—wrote to you at once. Why on earth don’t you receive your letters promptly, and when you do get them why can’t you open them? I endured the anxiety till last night, and then made up my mind⁠—home! Of course, it has worried me terribly. My head’s bursting. Are there any salts about? Aubrey fetches a bottle from the cabinet and hands it to her. We’ve had one of those hateful smooth crossings that won’t let you be properly indisposed. Aubrey My dear Alice, I assure you I’ve no thought of blaming you. Mrs. Cortelyon That statement always precedes a quarrel. Aubrey I don’t know whether this is the worst or the best