The vision of Gerald, radiantly in love, flashed horridly for Althea. It was dim, yet bright, scintillating darkly; she could only imagine it in similes; she had never seen anything that could visualise it for her. The insufferable dogs, like tethered bubbles, bounded before them, constantly impeding their progress. Althea was thankful for the excuse afforded her by the tangling of her feet in the string to pause and stoop; she felt that her rigid face must betray her. She stooped for a long moment and hoped that her flush would cover her rigidity. It was when she raised herself that she saw suddenly in Mrs. Mallison's face something that gave her more than a suspicion. She didn't suspect her of cruelty or vulgar vengeance--Gerald's aunt was quite without rancour on the score of her jilting of him; but she did suspect, and more than suspect her--it was like the unendurable probing of a wound to feel it--of idle yet implacable curiosity, and of a curiosity edged, perhaps, with idle malice. She summoned all her strength. She smiled and shook her head a little. 'Faithless Gerald! So soon,' she said. 'He is consoled quickly. No, I never guessed anything at all.' Mrs. Mallison had again passed her arm through hers and again pressed it. 'It _is_ soon, isn't it? A sort of _chasse-croise_. But how strange and fortunate that it should be soon--I know you feel that too.' 'Oh yes, of course, I feel it; it is an immense relief. But they ought to have told me,' Althea smiled. 'I wonder at that too,' said Mrs. Mallison. 'It is rather bad of them, I think, when they must know what it would mean to you of joy. When did it happen, do you suppose?' Althea wondered. Wonders were devouring her. 'It happened with you quite suddenly, didn't it?' said Mrs. Mallison, who breathed the soft fragrance of her solicitude into Althea's face as she leaned her head near and pressed her arm closely. 'Quite suddenly,' Althea replied, 'that is, with me it was sudden. Franklin, of course, has loved me for a great many years.' 'So he was faithless too, for his little time?' Althea's brain whirled. 'Faithless? Franklin?' 'I mean, while he made his mistake--while he thought he was in love with Helen.' 'It wasn't a question of that. It was to be a match of reason, and friendship--everybody knew,' Althea stammered. '_Was_ it?' said Mrs. Mallison with deep interest. 'I see, like yours and Gerald's.' 'Oh----' Althea was not able in her headlong course to do more than glance at the implications that whizzed past. 'Gerald and I made the mistake, I think; we believed ourselves in love.' '_Did_ you?' Mrs. Mallison repeated her tone of affectionate and brooding interest. 'What a strange thing the human heart is, isn't it?' 'Very, very strange.' 'How dear and frank of you to see it all as you do. And there are no more mistakes now,' said Mrs. Mallison. 'No one is reasonable and every one is radiant.'