Mrs. Denton reclined in an easy-chair in her room at Frobisher's house. A shawl of beautiful texture covered her shoulders, her feet rested on a stool, and the lamp on a neighboring table was carefully shaded. The dull pallor of her skin and the gauntness of her face suggested the invalid, but her health, while far from good, had suffered from the thought she bestowed on it. She was a reserved and selfish woman, and her mean ambitions were responsible for much of the trouble that had befallen her. Geraldine and she were generally at variance, Frobisher bore with her, but there was one person for whom she cherished a somewhat misguided tenderness. Mappin had been her favorite from his earliest years. His father had been her lover when the Frobishers were poor, and she had returned his affection. Nevertheless she had thrown him over when a richer suitor appeared, and her marriage had turned out disastrously. Urged by a desire for social prominence and love of ostentation, she had driven her husband into hazardous, speculations, for which he had weakly reproached her when the crash came. He escaped total ruin by Frobisher's help, but he afterward went downhill fast, wrangling with his wife until his death set her free. Her old lover had also married, and died a widower, leaving one son, and Mrs. Denton had shown a benevolent interest in the boy. He was bold and ambitious, which was what she liked, and she was not deterred by the lack of principle he early displayed. Success was the one thing she respected, and as he grew up young Mappin promised to attain it. Now she was expecting him, for he came to see her whenever he was in the neighborhood, and Frobisher made him welcome for her sake. When Mappin came in he was red-faced from the frosty air. "This place is stiflingly hot," he said. "I'm afraid that's because you're not feeling very fit yet." Mrs. Denton told him she could not get rid of her cold, and he had the tact to listen with a show of interest while she talked about her health. "You will stay all night?" she asked. "Yes, I'm sorry I must get back to-morrow." "Then I've no doubt it's necessary," she remarked in a suggestive tone. Mappin laughed as if he understood her. "It is. As things are going, business must come first. Besides, I can't flatter myself that I gained much by my last visit." "That's a point I can't speak upon, but you're not likely to lose your head. There's a cold-blooded, calculating vein in you. I wonder whether that was why you came straight to my room, though the society of a crotchety old invalid can't have much charm for you." The man's heavy face grew a trifle redder than usual. "No," he protested, "it wasn't. I'm not dirt mean." "Oh, well," said Mrs. Denton, looking at him gently, "you know I'm your friend. But I never pretended not to guess what brought you here." "And I haven't made a secret of it. I mean to marry Geraldine." "She'll have a good deal of money some day."