"Hush, hush, do not speak thus," said Webster, in great agitation. "I thank you very much for your kindness, your friendship--but--" "But what?" asked Kathleen, quickly, and her face grew pale. "There--there is a girl, a woman," faltered Webster, "whom I may never marry--who--who does not love me, yet--" "You love her?" said Kathleen, with a sort of gasp. "Yes, and I shall love no other--forgive me, Miss Weir--but this is true." Again there was a few moments' painful silence, and then with a strong effort the actress recovered herself. "Well, there is no harm done," she said, and she turned away. "And for the matter of that," she added, with a harsh little laugh, "I am not divorced yet; I may never be!" * * * * * Ten minutes later--after Webster was gone--Kathleen Weir was pacing up and down her drawing-room in a state of intense and concentrated excitement. "Am I so mad," she said, speaking aloud to herself, "to let this folly utterly upset me? I have wasted my affections then for the second time, but it won't kill me! Webster shall not think he has broken my heart any more than the other one did. Yet I like him," and her face softened; "he has a great heart--and the girl, the woman, whoever she is, may be proud of her conquest. But I am not going to pine; life isn't long enough to waste on a vain regret." After this she went back into the room where they had dined and took up one of the half-emptied champagne bottles and poured some of it into a glass and drank it. Then she rang the bell and ordered her brougham to come around for her in half an hour, and having done that she sat down to her desk and wrote and dispatched telegrams to Linda Falconer, to Lord Dereham, and to two other men that she knew, inviting them to supper that evening at half-past eleven o'clock. Presently she sent out and ordered an elaborate supper to be sent in from a confectioner's; ordered everything she could think of; the most expensive luxuries she could buy. When she had completed her arrangements she drove to one of the theaters to pass the time until her expected guests would arrive. A man she knew joined her there, and she invited him also to return with her to supper. She seemed in the wildest spirits; she laughed and jested, and showed her white teeth; all the while a cold sharp pang lay pressing on her heart. The supper was a great success, and never had Kathleen Weir been so witty or so gay. She sang, she coquetted, and played her part so well that Linda Falconer looked at her with her shadowed, dreamy eyes, and asked her if she had come into a fortune. "I have the prospect of one, at all events," answered Kathleen; "and there is nothing like money, you know, Linda--nothing, nothing!" "I think there is something better than money," said Dereham, with his honest brown eyes fixed on Linda Falconer's lovely face.