“Yes. I thought this morning that I should give Mrs. Maynard’s case up to him. I shouldn’t be at all troubled at seeming to give it up under a pressure of opinion, though I should not give it up for that. Of course,” she explained, “you don’t know that all those women have been saying that I ought to call in Dr. Mulbridge. It’s one of those things,” she added bitterly, “that make it so pleasant for a woman to try to help women.” He made a little murmur of condolence, and she realized that she had thrown herself on his sympathy, when she thought she had been merely thinking aloud. “What I mean is that he is a man of experience and reputation, and could probably be of more use to her than I, for she would trust him more. But I have known her a long time, and I understand her temperament and her character,—which goes for a good deal in such matters,—and I have concluded not to give up the case. I wish to meet Dr. Mulbridge, however, and ask him to see her in consultation with me. That is all,” she ended rather haughtily, as if she had been dramatizing the fact to Dr. Mulbridge in her own mind. “I should think that would be the right thing,” said Libby limply, with uncalled-for approval; but he left this dangerous ground abruptly. “As you say, character goes for a great deal in these things. I’ve seen Mrs. Maynard at the point of death before. As a general rule, she doesn’t die. If you have known her a long time, you know what I mean. She likes to share her sufferings with her friends. I’ve seen poor old Maynard”— “Mr. Libby!” Grace broke in. “You may speak of Mr. Maynard as you like, but I cannot allow your disrespectfulness to Mrs. Maynard. It’s shocking! You had no right to be their friend if you felt toward them as you seem to have done.” “Why, there was no harm in them. I liked them!” explained the young man. “People have no right to like those they don’t respect!” Libby looked as if this were rather a new and droll idea. But he seemed not to object to her tutoring him. “Well,” he said, “as far as Mrs. Maynard was concerned, I don’t know that I liked her any more than I respected her.” Grace ought to have frowned at this, but she had to check a smile in order to say gravely, “I know she is disagreeable at times. And she likes to share her sufferings with others, as you say. But her husband was fully entitled to any share of them that he may have borne. If he had been kinder to her, she wouldn’t be what and where she is now.” “Kinder to her!” Libby exclaimed. “He’s the kindest fellow in the world! Now, Miss Breen,” he said earnestly, “I hope Mrs. Maynard hasn’t been talking against her husband to you?” “Is it possible,” demanded Grace, “that you don’t know they’re separated, and that she’s going to take steps for a divorce?” “A divorce? No! What in the world for?” “I never talk gossip. I thought of course she had told you”—