"I am going to _see_!" I exclaimed. "And if it _isn't_ Artie--if she is kissing every man that comes into this house, I'll--I'll _kill_ her." "What! You'll kill her if you find that Artie is not the faithless wretch you were crying about?" "Oh, Aubrey! How _can_ you?" I cried. He tried to catch me as I flew past, but I eluded him, and started firmly down the long hall. But in spite of myself, my feet dragged. What was Flora attempting? Did she hate me as her look implied? Did she love Artie as she declared, or was she simply endeavouring to get married, and so save herself from a life of teaching, which she openly detested? I kept on, however, goaded by my righteous indignation. To my astonishment I found, not Artie, but the Also Ran, with Flora frankly in his arms. They sprang up at my swift entrance, and the man had the grace to look furiously confused. Flora never even changed colour. I asked no questions. I simply stood before them in accusing silence. But my look was black and ominous. Flora gave one swift glance at my uncompromising attitude, and then, with a modesty and grace and sweet appealing humility impossible to describe, she came a step toward me, holding out her arms and saying, plaintively: "Won't you congratulate me? We are engaged." I was struck dumb--that is, I would have been struck dumb, if I had not been rendered not only speechless, but unable to move by the actions of the man. Entirely unmindful of my presence, he sprang toward Flora, stammering, brokenly: "Do you mean it, dear? Have you decided already? You said six months! You are sure you mean it?" Then, not seeing the angry colour flame into Flora's pale, calm face, he turned to me, saying, brokenly: "Oh, Mrs. Jardine! She has teased me so! I never dreamed she would decide so quickly. And I--you will forgive me! but I love her so!" I looked away from his twitching face to Flora, and mentally resolved never to call him an Also Ran again. He did not deserve it. I am seldom sarcastic, but I knew Flora would understand. "Flora," I said, distinctly, "you are to be congratulated." Then I turned and left them. The very day that Flora left, Cary came back to me. "Well," she said, tentatively, "what do you think of her?" "Well," I answered, cautiously, "I don't know." Cary looked at me in disgust. "Your loyalty amounts to nothing short of blindness and stupidity," she remarked, severely. "As for me, I am going to look at the nest the viper has left." So saying, she got up and went into the blue room, Aubrey and I meekly following. Pinned to the pillow was a note directed to me. Cary unpinned and handed it to me. "Cleverest and best of women," it began, "Many thanks for your delightful hospitality. I have enjoyed it to the full--far more, indeed, than you know. Look under the mattress of this bed and you will understand." We tore the bed to pieces without speaking. Then Aubrey and Cary looked at each other and laughed.