And then, as they sat sparring and jarring as they so often did at their quickly-served meals, Dick Wantele gradually became aware that Mrs. Maule was eating nothing, nay more, that her short upper lip was trembling--large tears rolling down her cheeks. "Why!--Athena?" he exclaimed. "You mustn't allow this unexpected news to"--he hesitated for a word--"to upset you so much." He looked up across at her with a not very kind curiosity. His light observant eyes suddenly seized on what was to him an amazing sight, namely that a folded letter, covered with a fine clear handwriting he knew with a dear familiar knowledge, was working up out of Mrs. Maule's short bodice and forming a grey patch on her white neck. In spite of himself, Wantele was rather touched. "Of course I have always known that Jane was devoted to you," he said musingly, "but I didn't realise that the feeling was reciprocated to such an extent as it seems to be!" A flush of stormy anger reddened Mrs. Maule's face. "With Jane often here it has been bad enough!" she said passionately. "But what will my life be like henceforth?--I mean when I shan't even have her to look forward to? Richard will force me to be here more than ever now." "I think you will still manage to be a good deal away----" He had been right after all. Athena was only thinking of Jane Oglander's marriage as it affected herself. "Of course I shall stay away as much as I can!" she cried. "You and Richard much prefer my absence to my presence----" her look challenged a contradiction Wantele did not--could not utter. "And then--and then that isn't all, Dick! I didn't mind being here when Jane was here too to make things go well----" "Perhaps Jane will sometimes leave her hero during the very few weeks of the year that you are, as it were, in residence, Athena. He's going, it seems, to be given a home appointment. I suppose they will be married very soon?" Wantele did not look at her as he spoke. He was tracing an imaginary pattern on the tablecloth. The numbness induced by the horrible blow she had dealt him was beginning to give way to stinging stabs of pain. He longed to know more--to know everything--to turn as it were a jagged knife in his heart-wound. Mrs. Maule dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, then she laughed. "No, no, Dick," she cried, "there's no such luck in store for you--I mean for us! We're going to lose Jane--once for all. Jane has taken it rather badly. I never thought that dear saint would fall in love!" She suddenly became aware that his eyes were fixed on the letter she had thrust into the bodice of her gown when walking down the long gallery upstairs. She took it out of her warm and scented bodice, and held it out to him. "I think you'd better read what she says." Wantele looked at the pretty hand holding Jane Oglander's letter, but he made no attempt to take the folded paper. "I should _like_ to read it--" he said lightly, "but I think I'd better not."