"That is just what I complain of. They walked round or sat under trees like a couple of spooning lovers. I believe they did waltz once; and Violet did nothing but dance the night of her ball." "I wonder," Jasper Wilmarth says, slowly, "if Eugene does not, or will not regret giving up the St. Vincent fortune." "Giving up the fortune!" Marcia turns straight around, with a resemblance to Medusa, since her short, uneven hair stands out every way with the vigorous use of her magnetic brush. "How could he have had the St. Vincent fortune?" Wilmarth is surprised. Is it possible that Marcia does not know? Have these two men kept the secret from the family? "Why of course you are aware that it was offered to Eugene!" he answers, composedly. "No, I am not," she replies, shortly. "Was it to marry Violet?" He nods. "Yes, she seemed to go begging for a husband. I had the chance first, but I really fancied she was not more than fourteen or so, and I must wait for her to grow up. But St. Vincent was in a hurry, for I suppose he knew his days were numbered, and when Eugene declined--well, no doubt he offered her and her fortune to your brother Floyd, who was more shrewd than either of us." Marcia drops in an easy-chair, quite astounded. It is true, the secret has been kept from her. Eugene had the grace to swear Laura and madame to secrecy; and Marcia not being at home when Mrs. Grandon became possessor of it, a little fear of Floyd kept her from confiding it to this untrustworthy member of the family. "And you would have married her?" cries Marcia, jealously. "The fortune might have tempted me. I will not pretend to a higher state of grace than your brother, and you know up to that time you had taken no pains to render yourself attractive to me. See how soon I succumbed." "You delightful old Vulcan!" And Marcia flies across the room to shower kisses on her husband, convinced that she might have had him long before if she had only smiled upon him. "What a cheat Floyd was!" she declares, "making believe he fell in love with Violet because she saved Cecil. But--the fortune was not certain?" "I should have made it certain as well as your brother," says Wilmarth. "But if Eugene repents and falls in love with the pretty little thing, there will be a nice row." "And it does look like it," declares Marcia, who is delighted to ferret out unorthodox loves. "I mean to watch them." "Do no such thing," he commands. "Eugene will not be very hard hit, and your brother is quite capable of taking care of his wife. They are like two children, but it _is_ a pity Eugene had not been wiser. If your brother had only waited until Eugene had met Miss St. Vincent. The hurry in this matter always did surprise me a little. But I forbid you ever breathing a word to your brother. You see what a foolish husband I am to trust you with secrets," and he laughs.