"We shall never hear anything unless we go to Mrs. Wyndham's," said Joe. "Aunt Zoë is awfully clever, and that, but she never knows in the least what is going on. She says she does not understand politics." "If you were a Bostonian, Mr. Surbiton," said Sybil, "you would get into the State House and hear the earliest news." "I will do anything in the world to oblige you," said Ronald gravely, "if you will only explain a little"-- "Oh no! It is quite impossible. Come with me, both of you, and we will get some lunch at the Wyndhams' and hear all about it by telephone." "Very well," said Joe. "One moment, while I get my things." She left the room. Ronald and Sybil were again alone together. "You were saying when my cousin came in, that love was a very uncertain thing," suggested Ronald, rather timidly. "Was I?" said Sybil, standing before the mirror above the mantelpiece, and touching her hat first on one side and then on the other. "Yes," answered Ronald, watching her. "Do you know, I have often thought so too." "Yes?" "I think it would be something different if it were quite certain. Perhaps it would be something much less interesting, but much better." "I think you are a little confused, Mr. Surbiton," said Sybil, and as she smiled, Ronald could see her face reflected in the mirror. "I--yes--that is--I dare say I am," said he, hesitatingly. "But I know exactly what I mean." "But do you know exactly what you want?" she asked with a laugh. "Yes indeed," said he confidently. "But I do not believe I shall ever get it." "Then that is the 'disagreeable and painful thing' you referred to, as having happened this morning, I suppose," remarked Sybil, calmly, as she turned to take up her cloak which lay on the sofa. Ronald blushed scarlet. "Well--yes," he said, forgetting in his embarrassment to help her. "It is so heavy," said Sybil. "Thanks. Do you know that you have been making confidences to me, Mr. Surbiton?" she asked, turning and facing him, with a half-amused, half-serious look in her blue eyes. "I am afraid I have," he answered, after a short pause. "You must think I am very foolish." "Never mind," she said gravely. "They are safe with me." "Thanks," said Ronald in a low voice. Josephine entered the room, clad in many furs, and a few minutes later all three were on their way to Mrs. Wyndham's, the big booby sleigh rocking and leaping and ploughing in the heavy dry snow. CHAPTER XV. Pocock Vancouver was also abroad in the snowstorm. He would not in any case have stayed at home on account of the weather, but on this particular morning he had very urgent business with a gentleman who, like Lamb, rose with the lark, though he did not go to bed with the chickens. There are no larks in Boston, but the scream of the locomotives answers nearly as well.