"No," replied Thurston, who had already exchanged a nod of greeting with Goldwin. He lowered his voice so that Claire alone could hear it. "I arrived but a few minutes ago. I have been talking seriously with my sister. You were quite right. She has withdrawn her disapprobation. You have conquered her, as you conquer everybody." He saw the faint yet meaning flash that left her dark-blue eyes, and he read clearly, too, the significance of her bright smile, as she said:-- "Ah, you reassure me. For I had my doubts; I confess it, now." "So had I," he returned. "But they are at rest forever, as I want yours to be." ... At an early hour, the next morning, Mrs. Van Horn surprised her friend and kinswoman, Mrs. Ridgeway Lee, in the latter's pretty and quaint _boudoir_, that was Japanese enough, as regarded hangings and adornments, to have been the sacred retreat of some almond-eyed Yeddo belle. Mrs. Lee had had her coffee, and was deep in one of Zola's novels when her friend was announced. Her coupé would appear at twelve, and take her to a certain small religious hospital of which she was one of the most assiduous patrons; but she always read Zola, or some author of a similar Gallic intensity, while she digested her coffee. She had concealed the novel, however, by the time that Mrs. Van Horn had swept her draperies between the Oriental jars and screens. "I have come to talk with you about that affair--that plan, Sylvia," said her visitor, dropping into a chair. "You mean ... to-morrow, Cornelia?" "Yes.... By the way, have you seen the morning papers?" "I glanced over one of them--the 'Herald,' I think. It said, in the society column, that I wore magenta at the Charity Ball last night. As if I would disgrace myself with that hideous color! These monsters of the newspapers ought to be suppressed in some way." "You didn't think so when they described your flame-colored plush gown so accurately last Tuesday. However, you deserve to be ridiculed for going to those vulgar public balls." "But this was for charity, and"-- "Yes, I know. Don't let us talk of it. If you had read the paper more closely you would have seen the statement, given with a great air of truth, that Herbert Hollister's millions are flowing away from him at a terrible rate, and that to-night may see him almost ruined." "How dreadful!" said Mrs. Lee, in her slow way, but noticeably changing color. Mrs. Van Horn gave a high, hard laugh. "Of course you are sorry."