Then, out of blankness and frustration, the young man felt slowly rising a deep exasperation, a mighty grievance. So he shook himself at once, donned his mask quickly while yet he could, and said in quite a natural-seeming voice:-- "But I'm afraid I've bored you horribly with these purely literary troubles. And, by the way,--speaking of realism versus romance just now,--how are Donald and Miss Carson getting on these days?" She appeared a little surprised at the change of topic, but replied easily: "Oh!--very well, indeed, I believe. They're together somewhere nearly every evening.--But why--" "Really! That relieves me--knowing your serious interest in that affair. I was beginning to fear Donald might be wandering a little in his affections." "Wandering? No--how do you mean?" "Well, he has seemed quite attentive to your pretty cousin of late, don't you think?" Then the Secretary turned her head again, sharply. And it hardly improved Charles Garrott's frame of mind to perceive that, of all he had said in the strangely talkative drive, this alone had really touched her: this, which affected her personal purposes, her Own ambitions. "Angela? Why, not that I know of! I didn't know he'd seen her at all--except one casual meeting, perhaps!" "I've happened to see them driving together from tune to time, as I plod about on my rounds. But no doubt it's all quite casual, as you say, since you've heard nothing about it." "You have? But please tell me!--where have you seen them together--and when?" He cited particulars from his collection, damaging ones, though perhaps not so damaging as he could have made them had not self-interest restrained. Still, something in him was not displeased as he saw his old friend's concern steadily deepening. "I'm surprised, and--frankly, I 'm sorry," she said slowly, at the end. "Of course Angela's a dear girl, very sweet and attractive, but--I shouldn't like Donald to see too much of her--in view of my other hopes! I've had good reason to think that he's really interested in Helen, and she in him.--Well!" she went on, after a small pause, "this seems to require some diplomatic management. Donald has engagements for every evening this week--but--" "It's in the daytime that he meets Miss Flower. At least, I don't think she takes the Fordette out at night." Beside him on the padded seat, Mary sat silent, a little pucker between the dark brows which set such a question-mark in her colorless face. Considering her formidable strength, it was odd how all but ethereal, how sincerely girlish, she could look at times.