It would be hard to say what he would have felt had he known that Josephine Thorn, John Harrington, and Mrs. Sam Wyndham all knew of his journalistic doings. And yet it was nearly certain that no one of the three would ever speak to him on the subject. Joe would not, because she knew John would not like it; John himself despised the whole business too much to condescend to reproach Vancouver; and, finally, Mrs. Wyndham was too much a woman of the world to be willing to cause a scandal when it could possibly be avoided. She liked Vancouver too, and regretted what he had done. Her liking only extended to his conversation and agreeable manners, for she was beginning to despise his character; but he had so long been an _habitué_ about the house that she could not make up her mind to turn him out. But for all that, she could not help being cold to him at first. John himself was too busy with important matters to bestow much thought on Vancouver or his doings. His day had been spent in interviews and letter-writing; fifty people had been to see him at his rooms, and he had dispatched more than that number of letters. At five o'clock he had slipped out with the intention of dining at his club before any one else was there, but he had met Mrs. Wyndham in the street, and had spent his dinner-hour with her. At half-past six he had another appointment in his rooms, and it was not till nearly eleven that he was able to get away and look in upon the party, when he met Joe. For a week this kind of life would probably last, and then all would be over, in one way or another, but meanwhile the excitement was intense. On the next day Ronald came to see Joe before ten o'clock. The time hung heavily on his hands, and he found it impossible to occupy himself with his troubles. There were moments when the first impression of disappointment returned upon him very strongly, but he was conscious of a curious duplicity about his feelings, and he knew well enough in his inmost heart that he was only evoking a fictitious regret out of respect for what he thought he ought to feel. "Tell me all about the people here, Joe," said he, sitting down beside her almost as though nothing had happened. "Who is Mrs. Wyndham, to begin with?" "Mrs. Wyndham--she is Sam Wyndham's wife. Just that," said Joe. "And Sam Wyndham?" "Oh--he is one of the prevalent profession. He is a millionaire. In fact he is one of the real ones." "When do they get to be real?" asked Ronald. "Oh, when they have more than ten millions. The other ones do not count much. It is much more the thing to be poor, unless you have ten millions." "That is something in my favor, at all events," said Ronald. "Very much. You have been to see Mrs. Wyndham, then?" "Oh yes, I went yesterday, and she has asked me to dinner to-night. It is awfully good of her, I must say." "You will like her very much, and Sybil Brandon too," said Joe. "Sybil is an adorable creature."