Pocock Vancouver, pale and exquisite as ever, came up to the two ladies. "Can I get you anything, Mrs. Wyndham?" he inquired, after a double bow. "No, thank you. Johnny Hannibal is taking care of me," answered Mrs. Sam, coldly. "Miss Thorn, what can I get you?" he asked, turning to Joe. "Nothing, thanks," said Joe, "Mr. Biggielow is getting me something." She did not look at Vancouver as she answered, and the angry color began to rise to her temples. Vancouver, who was not used to repulses such as these, and was too old a soldier to give up a situation so easily, stood a moment playing with his coat tails. A sudden thought passed through Joe's mind. It struck her that, considering the situation of affairs, it would be unwise to break off her acquaintance with Vancouver at the present time. Her first honest impulse was to cut him and never speak to him again. But it was better to act with more deliberation. In the first place, there might be more to be learnt which might be of service to John; secondly, people would talk about it if she cut him, and would invent some story to the effect that he had proposed to marry her, or that she had proposed to marry him. It was contrary to her nature to pretend anything she did not feel, but it would nevertheless be a mistake to quarrel openly with Vancouver. "On second thoughts--if you would get me a glass of water"--she said, speaking to him. He instantly disappeared; but even in the moment before he departed to execute her command he had time to express by his look a sense of injury forgiven, which did not escape Joe. "What a hypocrite the man is!" she thought. Vancouver on his part could form no conception of the cause of the coldness the two ladies had shown him. He could not know that Joe had discovered in him the writer of the article, still less could he have guessed that Joe had told John, and that John had told Mrs. Sam. He could only suppose that the two had been talking of something, and were annoyed at being interrupted. When he came back with the glass of water Mr. Biggielow had just brought Joe some salad. The usual struggle began between the two men. Mr. Bonamy Biggielow was a little poet. "I ought to thank you, Miss Thorn, instead of you thanking me," said Vancouver, in a seductive voice, on one side of Joe. "Is it not the most crowded supper you ever saw?" remarked Mr. Biggielow on the other side. "Why?" said Joe, eating her salad and looking straight before her. "I thought you were going to send me away. I was so glad when you condescended to make use of me," answered Vancouver. Mr. Biggielow also answered Joe's interrogation. "Well," he said, "I mean it is thronged with people. There is a decided 'sound of revelry by night'." "Youth and beauty? That sort of thing?" said Joe to Biggielow. Then turning to Vancouver, she added, "Why should I send you away?"