Poor Jean, however, was invulnerable. She had never liked Mr. Maynard, although she had been forced to admit that he was charming, and agreeable as an acquaintance. The Hetherford girls were one and all too sincerely fond of Mrs. Maynard to have much patience with the man who could flagrantly neglect so sweet and lovely a wife. It had been an unwritten code of honor among them to treat him with polite indifference, and to promptly snub any attempt on his part to break down the barrier of reserve behind which they had entrenched themselves. Under ordinary circumstances Jean would have despised herself for the course she was now pursuing, but to-night the poor child was too utterly miserably to care what she did, or what became of her. She laughed and flirted recklessly with this man, of whom she strongly disapproved, to quell the ache at her heart, and when the remedy failed she but laughed and flirted the more. It was selfish, unworthy; but Jean was unversed in suffering, and seized upon the means within reach to enable her to cover up her pain and jealousy. Something of the same impulse that influenced Farr with Miss Stuart prompted her to keep this man at her side. Those old friends knew her too well, had seen too much of her with Farr, not to have their suspicions aroused by her feverish and exaggerated gayety. At last the evening was over, and they stood in the hotel office, awaiting the arrival of the stage. Jean was somewhat apart from the others, with Maynard bending over her and talking to her in lowered tones. Her little foot tapped the floor nervously, her cheeks burned hotly, and one unsteady little hand waved a big fan to and fro. Her courage was rapidly forsaking her, and she rallied all her strength in one last effort to appear naturally gay and at ease. She felt she must not break down now with Farr only a few paces away, for, although she never raised her eyes, yet she knew he was watching her. As pretty little Mrs. Maynard moved about among her guests, speaking to them in her softly modulated voice, she bent a glance of anxious intentness upon Jean. She was far too inured to her husband's indifference to be deeply hurt by this new flirtation carried on before her very eyes, but this new phase in Jean's character puzzled her. But her own sad experience had quickened her intuition of others' unhappiness, and so it was that in her gentle heart there was more of commiseration than anger. Her thoughts were interrupted by Dick's announcement that the stage was at the door. When Jean came to bid her good-night she looked into the strained, pathetic eyes with compassionate tenderness, and a sudden impulse made her lean forward and kiss the girl lovingly.