I intended to avoid Flora, but I found her lying in wait for me, and beckoning me from the doorway. I went in, and at once, in order to seem natural, remarked upon her red eyes. But it seems that that was exactly what she wanted me to do. The girl had no pride. She _wanted_ me to pity her. "I'm ready to kill myself!" she cried. "I am perfectly sure that Artie has only been flirting with me and that some one has come between us. You can't want Cary to have him, or why did you invite me here, and arrange for me to see so much of him, and try so hard to bring us together? You are not two-faced like that, I hope?" I was too bewildered to speak. Yet how could I answer her questions? Before I left her, I was convinced that it was all my fault. I told Aubrey so. "Nonsense!" he said, quite roughly for him. "I think Mary's name for Flora is a good one. She is a little blister." "No," I said, "she is not bad at heart. She is simply an impulsive, uncontrolled little animal, and more frank in her loves than most of us. That's all." I saw the Angel set his lips together as if he could say something if he only dared, but his way of managing me is to give me my head and let circumstances teach me. He never forces Nature's hand. Flora's visit was to have terminated the next day, but, to Aubrey's intense disgust and my utter rout, she begged for just three days more, and before I knew it I had consented. As I hurriedly left the room after consenting, I turned suddenly and met her gaze. Her eyes were a mere slit in her face, so narrowed and crafty they were. And the look she shot at me was a look of hatred. Too bewildered by this curious girl's inexplicable actions to try to unravel my emotions and come to a decision regarding her, I kept out of her way all I could. I was simply waiting--waiting impatiently for the three days to pass. I only hoped that Artie would not come again while she was here. But, alas, the very next morning I was at the telephone when I heard Flora run to the door to let somebody in, and before I could speak I heard her say, in that surprised, complaining tone of hers, "Aren't you going to kiss me?" and then--well, I got up and slammed the door so hard that the key fell out. What a fool Artie was? What fools _all_ men were, not to be able to keep faith with a woman, and such a woman as Cary Farquhar! I rushed from the study into my room, and burst into a storm of tears, in the midst of which Aubrey found me. "Poor little Faith! Poor, discouraged, little match-maker!" he said, smoothing my hair. But at that last I sat up and shook his hand off. "It's so _disgusting_ of him!" I stammered. "If you could have heard him when he was talking about Flora!" "How do you know it was Artie who came in?" said Aubrey, gently. I opened my mouth and simply stared at him. Then I went to the glass, smoothed my hair and straightened my belt. "Where are you going?" asked my husband.