"I wish _you_ would tell _me_ when he departs? One gets tired of people in the state Paul is in, that's all." "Are you a little--envious, dear Leo? Such happiness----" "Yes, that's it. Such happiness--Maud is welcome to it," cried Leo, with a laugh. "Very welcome, most welcome; but it's all the parade, the flutter--however, it will soon be over, thank Heaven!"--she subjoined under her breath. No more was to be got out of her, and Sue, baffled and repelled, went her way. She was conscious, however, of a sense of relief when the very same afternoon Paul's departure for a season was announced. He had arranged for this without consulting any one; but Maud was satisfied that business demanded his presence in London, and that there were also a few old friends to whom as a bachelor he wished to bid farewell. It did not appear very clearly where these friends lived, and indeed an exacting _fiancee_ might have found the brief announcement vague and unsatisfactory, but Maud's feelings were thus conveyed to her own people in private: "Paul has so much sense of what is proper and correct, that it really amounts to an intuition. I daresay he has an idea that when there is so much for me to attend to, it is better that I should be free to give myself up to it. Certainly it is a little distracting to have to remember he is waiting for a walk or ride, when one's head is in a whirl with other things." Once she had asked Leo to take the walk instead of her--she did not do it again. Leo, with blazing eyes, declined point-blank. "Take your man off your hands? Not I. If you're tired of him----" "Good gracious, child, what do you mean? What things you do say? I _am_ tired, as it happens--but not of Paul. I have been standing for hours trying on dresses, and I am not such a walker as you at any time. You are forever going out. One would have thought you would be glad of a companion." "I might be glad of a companion--but not of Paul," retorted Leo, mimicking. "He is your Paul, not mine, and I--and we----" her lips trembled and framed no more. "You might oblige me, I think,"--but Sue touched the speaker's arm, and Leo vanished. "What is it?" demanded Maud, irritably. "That child is quite spoilt of late. It's since her London visit, I think. She never was like that before." "Sometimes I think, I fancy she is not quite well." Sue gathered up some papers on the table, and proceeded. "You know what Dr. Craig said? That she was in a morbid state, artificially excited or depressed, her mind preying upon itself. He said she must be taken where her natural impulses would have freer vent----" "Well, well; we all know what he said; you told us at the time." "I thought she was cured, but it seems not," said Sue, in a low voice. "And your engagement has somehow----"