Rupert Denison liked Nigel, but he had no idea how intimate he was with Nigel. In other words he hadn't the faintest idea how well Nigel knew him. And this is a case which happens every day owing to the present custom of confidential gossip; and is too frequently rather unfairly arranged through the intimate friendship of women. For example, Madeline, regarding Bertha as the most confidential of sisters, told her every little thing, showed her every letter, and had no shadow of a secret from her in word or thought. Bertha was almost equally confiding except than an older married woman is never quite so frank with a girl friend--there must always be certain reservations. Bertha was an intimate friend of Nigel and practically told _him_ every little thing--he was "the sort of man you could tell everything to," he was interested, amused, and gave excellent advice. The result was obvious; very little about Rupert and his private romance with Madeline was unrevealed to Nigel. Nigel felt inclined to smile when he remembered all he had heard. Rupert, on the other hand, was not "the sort of man you could tell everything to"; he therefore had no confidential women friends and knew nothing at all about Nigel. For all he knew, he was just as much as ever _l'ami de la maison_ at Percy's house. At the very end of the dinner, which was a very pleasant one, during which Nigel had been sparkling and Rupert a little quiet, Nigel suddenly "felt it in his bones," as Bertha used to say--dear Bertha, she used to declare that her bones were so peculiarly and remarkably sensitive to anything of interest--Nigel felt, as I say, Rupert was longing to talk about Madeline. He therefore led the conversation to her, remarked how quiet she had been of late, and told him various things about her. "Did she ever mention me?" asked Rupert, as he looked down at his wineglass. "Oh yes, rather." "What did she say?" "She said," replied Nigel, "that she was jolly glad she never saw you now and that you were a silly rotter!" "I recognise Miss Madeline's style," replied Rupert with a smile, as he rose from the table. CHAPTER XXXIV MOONA