But, as the two girls thus gazed at each other, the interval in their ages seemed, indeed, indefinite and immense. Angela's eyes could afford that subtle expression of known womanly advantage. The light of afternoon, flowing freely over the park and into the long windows, fell full upon Mary Wing's delicate face. It was a face, to be just, not devoid of a feminine attractiveness at times. But now the bright day showed it colorless and tired; the marks of many "fights" lingered indefinably about the mouth; tiny crow's-feet netted the corners of the fine blue eyes. Yes, this school-teacher's first youth was gone. Full of strange isms, she had lost sight of the real things of life, and now her Woman's Opportunity had slipped away from her forever. It may be that Mary Wing would have given something of her honors to be prettier than Angela just for that moment. "I think it would be hard to name a finer ambition. To be a good wife to ..." And, breaking off, she added, with another smile, sudden and merry: "To Dan Jenney, didn't you tell me?" Her young cousin lost her dreamy look rather abruptly. "Why, _no_, Cousin Mary! Please don't say that! I only told you that--" But Cousin Mary, having turned her eyes toward the window, interrupted the womanly talk with a smashing announcement. "Here's Flora Trevenna coming in--good!" she said in her most matter-of-fact way. "Excuse me a minute, Angela,--I'm bell-hop, you know!" Angela, who at least knew the ill-omened name, gave one startled gaze, and sprang up. The prospect of casually meeting Mr. Manford was forgotten in her sudden panic alarm. "I must _go_!" she said, looking about her a little wildly. "I--should have gone some time ago--really! I just stopped in to--" Mary's colorless face seemed to stiffen a little. So, perhaps, Mr. Mysinger was wont to see it. "Well, wait just a minute," she ordered, rather than requested. "I'd especially like you to meet Flora." Nice reward this for being cousinly and inviting Cousin Mary to the bridge-party: _to meet that woman_! "I--really, I _can't_, Cousin Mary! I'll just run back and see your mother a minute--and then--" "You can't well be so rude as that, can you?" said Mary. And then she added, as if something within her threw out the words beyond her will: "Why do you call me Cousin Mary all the time? I'm only four years older than you." The question, of course, expected no notice. Mary was gone into the hall. Yet Angela, left unpoliced, did not immediately fly toward the bedroom region, or run and hide with the leaflets behind the sofa. It may be she feared her hard cousin a little; but besides that, in the strangest and most contradictory sort of way, it appeared that she did not altogether want to fly. She was conscious of an excitement, of a sort of unworthy curiosity. The front door opened; there were voices. And then Mary Wing returned, her arm slipped brazenly through that of her astounding friend.