'I didn't think that,' she answered, though of course she had; 'but something told me--I don't know why--that there's some strange attraction.... I never saw a more perfect wife than you, nor a more perfect mother. But these things should be nipped in the bud, dear. They get hold of you sometimes before you know where you are. And think,' she went on with relish, 'how terrible it would be practically to break up two homes!' 'Oh, really, I must stop you there,' cried Edith. 'You don't think of elopements, do you?' 'I don't say that, necessarily. But I've seen a great deal of life. I've lived everywhere, and just the very households--_menages,_ as we say abroad--that seem most calm and peaceful, sometimes--It would be, anyhow, very dreadful, wouldn't it--to live a double life?' Edith thought her friend rather enjoyed the idea, but she said: 'You don't imagine, I hope, that there's anything in the nature of an intrigue going on between me and Mr Mitchell?' 'No, no, no--not now--not yet--but you don't quite know, Edith, how one can be carried away. As I was sitting up in my room--thinking--' 'You think too much,' interrupted Edith. 'Perhaps so--but it came to me like this. I mean to be the one to put things right again, if I can. My dear child, a woman of the world like myself sees things. You two ought to be ideally happy. You're meant for one another--I mean you and Bruce.' 'Do you think so?' 'Absolutely. But this--what shall I say?--this fascination is coming between you, and, though you don't realise it, it's saddening Bruce's life; it will sadden yours too. At first, no doubt, at the stage you're in, dear, it seems all romance and excitement. But later on--Now, Edith, promise me you won't be angry with me for what I've said? It's a terrible freedom that I've taken, I know. Really a liberty. But if I were your'--she glanced at the mirror--'elder sister, I couldn't be fonder of you. Don't think I'm a horrid, interfering old thing, will you?' 'Indeed I don't; you're a dear.' 'Well, we won't speak of it any more till after Tuesday,' said Madame Frabelle, 'and take my advice: throw yourself into other things.' She glanced round the room. 'It's a splendid idea to divert your thoughts; why don't you refurnish your boudoir?' Edith had often noticed the strange lack in Eglantine of any sense of decoration. She dressed charmingly, but with regard to surroundings she was entirely devoid of taste. She had the curious provincialism so often seen in cosmopolitans who have lived most of their lives in hotels, without apparently noticing or caring about their surroundings.