And Angela, despite all of the injunctions of propriety, looked; looked, with a sort of fearful fascination. Never in her life before, to her knowledge, had her girlish eyes rested upon a Badwoman. Though virtue went out of her, she _must_ look this once.... "Flora, this is my cousin, Angela Flower, whom you know of, I believe. My friend, Miss Trevenna, Angela." A look of greeting came upon the Badwoman's not displeasing face, a little smile upon the pretty, sinful lips. "Oh, how do you do, Miss Flower?" But Angela, with her upbringing, found it impossible to reciprocate these friendly overtures. Take one shameful peep, she might. But that itself brought a reaction, perhaps; and as well as Donald Manford, as well as Judge Blenso himself, Angela knew, if only by intuition, that good people must stand up for morals. Donald certainly would have applauded her, as she inclined her graceful head about an inch and spoke two cold words:-- "Miss Trevenna." And then, her alarm mysteriously gone, she turned to her cousin and said, formally: "Good-bye, then, Cousin Mary. Do come to see us when you find time." Indeed, the two cousins viewed everything too differently to make much intimacy between them probable. When the door had shut on Angela, Cousin Mary put her arm about the shoulder of the Badwoman and said the strangest, the most advanced thing possible:-- "Dear Flora! You must let me say--I'm sorry." Miss Trevenna, with her deceptively cloistral countenance, seemed to flinch a little. Her gaze looked rather bright; it fell away from Mary's. But she produced a fair effect of uncomprehension and surprise. "Sorry? Why, what for?" "Well--I can't feel my little cousin showed to very good advantage." "Oh, didn't she? But it makes no difference. I--hardly ever notice what people do--really! Are you too busy, or shall we walk?" "Let me get my hat," said Mary. Having put on hat and coat in her own bedroom, the fighting educator looked into the room beyond, where the babies and their grandmother were considerably spread over creation. "Angela gone?" asked Mrs. Wing presently, in the midst of cooing. "Yes," said Mary; and let it stand at that. "Look how he cuddles in his granny's arm. I had to change his little socks again. She was very strange with them, Mary, didn't you think so?" "Strange?--how do you mean?" "Why, she just didn't seem to care anything about them! Didn't you notice, she hardly looked at Paulie once! How could she help loving such little darlings? And she seems such a nice, womanly girl, too." "Well, _all_ women aren't maternal, mother, don't you know that?" "In my day," said Mrs. Wing imperturbably, "all good women loved babies." But when Mary said where she was off to now, a shadow fell on her mother's calm face, and Mary saw it. However, Mrs. Wing said nothing, this time.