"Yes," she answered, "I know Miss Quincy--quite the most beautiful girl I have ever seen." "Very beautiful," echoed Mrs. Percival. "So I too thought, the only time I ever saw her. Well, Madeline, what I have to tell you is that Dick is to marry her." The girl saw that the older woman's hands were trembling, and she laid her own warm young palms over the cold old ones. "I hope Dick will be very happy," she said softly. "I--I'm not a bit surprised. We ought to have seen that it was coming. And Dick loves her!" And she laid her cheek against Mrs. Percival's, but the other pushed her away and stared into the eyes so near her own. "And you can take it so quietly?" she asked. "Forgive me, dear, if for once I break down the barriers of reserve. I love you so much, let me be frank. Surely you know what I hoped, what I thought." "You thought Dick and I loved each other," Madeline said bravely. "I hoped so. Heaven knows I hoped so." "We are too good friends for that, dear Mrs. Percival. One needs a little something unexplored and unexpected in a lover; don't you think so? Dick and I knew each other in kilts and pig-tails." "Well, it seems I am as much of an old fool as Dick is a young one," Mrs. Percival said bitterly. "I'm good for nothing but to lie here and comfort myself with dreams." "You're an old dear, and Dick is a young one," Madeline tried to laugh. "And Miss Quincy is exquisite--charming." "An old fool," repeated Mrs. Percival. "Now listen, sweetheart! If Dick marries this girl, I have no intention of forgetting that he is my son, and that she is his wife. I shall do all I can to help her to be worthy of him; but before that happens, I am going to have the satisfaction of speaking to just one person in the world--you--exactly what I think about it. From what Mrs. Lenox told me, after her visit in the country, and from what I saw myself, I think she is a vulgar little image overlaid with tinsel." "Oh, don't!" Madeline cried. "You and I do not really know her, but we can trust Dick. He's too fine himself to be attracted by anything but fineness. She must have character to have made the fight she has with fate." "Attracted by character! Pins and figs! My son is just like all the others, I am finding. He's attracted by pink flesh. And as for heart and soul--all the women that Dick has known well have been women of refinement. He takes their purity and nobility for granted, as a part of womanhood. He thinks he's marrying you and me. His reason has nothing to do with it." For the moment Madeline had no answer, and Mrs. Percival went on: "It's foolish to care what people say about your tragedies. Oh, you needn't shake your head. This is a tragedy, Madeline. And I do care about the world. I hate to think of the whispering and gossiping because my son--my son--has fallen a victim to a cheap adventuress."