He sat and watched her with a grim smile, which he made an effort to maintain. But the sobs were rather piteous, and the smile gradually became very mildly ferocious, and presently vanished altogether. Presently, also, Nellie stopped crying, sat up, and stared in front of her with a dazed look and parted lips. "Well?" said Philip. "I won't receive the testimonial." "Is that all you have to say?" he asked in a tone of disappointment. "Yes," she answered, plucking nervously at her handkerchief, "that's all." "No reason to give?" "Tell them that there's nothing to give me a testimonial for." "Shall I?" he asked. Nellie glanced at him with a start, but in an instant she recovered herself. "I mean that I would much rather no more fuss was made about what I did." "As you please," he said coldly. "I will tell the Mayor, and get him to stop the thing." "Is Dale at home?" she asked, as Philip rose. "He's gone to town. Do you want to see him about anything?" "No--nothing in particular--only--I haven't seen him for three or four days." "Are you staying here long?" "I am staying till Tora comes home, and then I go to her." "Well, good-by. I'll tell the Mayor." "Thank you so much. Good-by." She was quite calm again by now; her sudden fit of agitation was over, and apparently she felt nothing more than a distaste for the parade of a public presentation. So easy and natural had her bearing become that Philip Hume, as he walked away, wondered if he had been on a wrong scent after all. If so, he had behaved in a very brutal---- He broke off his thoughts abruptly, to recognize and bow to Janet Delane, who whirled by in her victoria, on the way to Mount Pleasant. She seemed to be going to pay a visit to Nellie Fane. Philip, who liked to hear how things happen, regretted that he had cut his own visit short and missed Janet's entry. Janet whirled on. Her balance of mind, delicately poised between her love and her pride, had suffered a new and severe shock from the Mayor's jocose remarks. She could not rest. She felt that she must see for herself--must see Nellie and find out why everybody thought what they did--yes, and what Nellie thought. She was full of things which she had to say to Nellie; she was prepared, if need be, again to sacrifice herself for Nellie, but the truth about it all at least she was determined to hear; on what it was, Dale's uncertain happiness again hung suspended. With her usual frankness and candor, she straightway began to tell Nellie all her story. Nellie listened in almost stony stillness. "It's so hard to speak of," said Janet, "but yet I think we must. It is wretched to let things go on like this. At least I am wretched, and I fear he is, and----" "I'm sure I am," said Nellie, with a forlorn laugh. Janet came and knelt by her and took her hands. "You too? you whom we all admire so? Oh, what a world it is! Why did I ever love him?" "Ah, you do love him?"