Laura is rather checked in her angry career. She dare not brave these steel-gray eyes. "We are all very much surprised; at least I am, having heard no word or hint of it." "We did keep our secret pretty well, I believe," and he glances fondly at Marcia. "Well," replies Laura, rising, "I suppose the best wish of all is that you may not regret your step in haste." "It was not so hasty as that," and he laughs, with the flavor of one who has won. Laura makes her adieus coldly, feeling outgeneralled by his evident determination not to be put down. "What are we to do?" she asks of madame, half an hour later. "This horrid reception staring us in the face! Of course people will go out of curiosity. Marcia always did delight in being talked about." "But is her husband so horribly unpresentable?" and madame's beautiful eyes are filled with sympathy. "Oh, you can present _anything_ here in New York, that is the worst of it!" cries Laura, angrily. "That is why I like Newport. And Marcia is so utterly silly." "But Mr. Wilmarth?" "I hate the sight of him, and Marcia used to say everything about him. He's humpbacked or something, and looks like a tiger. Well, I _do_ wish her joy if ever he should get in a tantrum. You see, after all, the idea of bringing such a man in the family. Floyd's marriage was bad enough." "But your _petite_ sister-in-law does improve wonderfully." "Don't call her anything to me," says Laura, disdainfully. "She is simply Floyd's wife. I only wish we were going to sail this very day and get out of all the _escalandre_." Madame laughs comfortingly. Laura resolves to go up to Grandon Park to see in what estimation the marriage is held there. They are surprised and puzzled. Mrs. Grandon's mortification is a little assuaged, and in her secret heart she is thankful Marcia has done no worse. She has been lawfully married by a reputable clergyman, she is staying at a fashionable hotel, and will no doubt have a stylish reception. She has married a man who can not only keep her in comfort, but who is likely to keep her out of any further imprudences, and therefore one need have no care or anxiety about the future. The step certainly has some compensations to her, if they are and must remain unconfessed to the world. "I do regret it," Floyd says, candidly, "for I am afraid Marcia's romance has led her into an unwise step. I cannot imagine Jasper Wilmarth being tender to a woman. I have never been able to like or admire him, or, for that matter, trust him, and our views seldom accord. I suppose the secret of it was that Marcia was afraid of opposition." "But what are you going to do, recognize them at once?" "If at all, why not at once? Why make a little stir and gossip? We shall never be altogether friendly," and Floyd paces the room, for he sees this step complicates business matters still further, "but we can keep people from commenting upon our unfriendliness."