As day followed day, the breach between Jean and her lover was not healed, and no hand was stretched forth to stay its ever-widening limits. * * * * * "Lillian!" Miss Stuart laid down her book, and looked expectantly up at Helen. "I have a suggestion to make for this afternoon. How would you like to drive over to Crescent Beach to call on Mrs. Maynard?" "I agree to the drive," replied Miss Stuart, stifling a yawn, "but why must we call on that stupid woman? She always bores me to death." There was a ring of annoyance in Helen's voice as she answered: "Oh, it is not at all necessary for you to go with me. One of my sisters would be delighted to do so." "So much the better, my dear," said Miss Stuart indifferently, as she picked up her book and resumed her reading. "Why are you so down on little Mrs. Maynard?" queried Wendell Churchill, emerging from a recess of the window where he and Nathalie had been whiling away the morning hours with mandolin and banjo. "I am not down on her in the least, but I think she is uninteresting to a degree." She paused until the portières had closed on Helen's retreating figure, and then met Churchill's eyes with a meaning smile. "It is not surprising, is it, that her husband should find Mrs. Desborough a pleasing contrast?" In her far-away corner hot-tempered Nathalie caught the words and flared up in defense of her friend: "Oh, I think it is a shame to speak so. Mrs. Maynard is unhappy, but no woman ever bore unhappiness with greater dignity. It seems to me incredible that everybody's sympathies are not enlisted on her side." "I am very unfortunate," returned Miss Stuart with thinly veiled sarcasm. "This is the second time I have erred in this way. I must be more careful in future not to give expression to my opinions." Churchill saw that some unpleasantness was imminent, and, manlike, rushed in only to make matters worse. "Don't you think Miss Nathalie looks very much like Mrs. Desborough? I have so often noticed the resemblance." With blazing eyes, Nathalie started up from the low window-seat. "From all I know of her, I cannot feel flattered by the compliment," and, with this parting shot, she thrust open the French windows and flew out on the veranda. "Dear, dear," murmured Miss Stuart in mock dismay, "what a tempest in a teapot. Those girls are terribly spoiled, and it is all Helen's fault. She is unpardonably weak with them." Churchill was very much embarrassed by the position in which he found himself. He extricated himself by muttering something barely intelligible, to the effect that the Lawrences were so much attached to each other, and then retreated hastily to find Nathalie and reinstate himself in her good graces.