So long that Jerome has forgotten all about them--and her. She is now to him only Miss Creecy, the prospective wife of his nearest friend, the prospective mistress of the Bigge House, and not attractive, it would appear, in these new surroundings. Others, very likely, did not notice how he never spoke to her, if he could help it; how he never looked at her, if he could help it; how they kept far apart, as far as the East is from the West, though sleeping under the same roof, and eating at the same table, and constantly together morning, noon, and night. Others did not notice all these things, but Mell did. "He despises me," sobbed Mell in the darkness of her own chamber, smothering her sobs in her own pillow. "Once he loved, and now he despises me!" Better go to sleep, Mell; tears cannot wash away stern facts, and what good would it do now, if he did love you? The other guest has come; the one of whom Jerome had spoken. It is the Honorable Archibald Pendergast, who is middle-aged, well-fed, and somewhat portly, who has big round shoulders and a jolly way of looking at things, who bellows out his words with a broad accent, and says, Aw! aw! with tremendous effect; who wears his whiskers _a la maniere Anglaise_, as befits a man proud of his British ancestry and his English ways. This great man's marvellous wealth and honors, and incalculable influence in national councils, and stupendous grandeur of future prospects, carry everything before him--at the Bigge House, and everywhere else. Adapting herself with versatile cleverness, to these prevailing conditions in her unaccustomed environment, Mell's conception of modes and manners expanded day by day, and she began to see plainly a good many objects only dimly discerned before. "I don't think," remarked she, quite innocently to Rube, the day after the great man's advent, "that Mr. Devonhough admires the Senator as much as the rest of us." "I shouldn't wonder!" Rube looked knowing and laughed. "If he was as badly stuck on you as he appears to be on Clara, _I_ wouldn't admire him either!" "But," said Mell, "is Jerome?" "Yes, certainly. Didn't you know that? I thought you did. They are in the same interesting predicament as ourselves. Only Clara won't announce, because she wants to keep up to the last minute her good times with other men. I don't see how Devonhough stands it, and I'm awfully glad you're not that sort of a girl!" "How long?" asked not-that-sort-of-a-girl, trying to steady her voice, trying to maintain her role of a disinterested inquirer. "How long have they been engaged!" repeated Rube. "Let me see--Six months at least." "Six months!" "You seem surprised, Mell." He turned his glance full upon her. "Not at all," said she, pulling herself to rights. "I was only thinking that you ought to be willing to wait as long as that." "So I would; as many years, for that matter, if there was any good reason why I should. But there is not; not one, and so, Mell--"