Mrs. Tate rested her hands in her lap and burst out laughing. "What a ridiculous thing! I beg your pardon, dear, but I can't help being amused. Of course it doesn't seem funny to you. You're used to it; but it does to me." Then she questioned Blanche about the new performer, and Blanche repeated what Jules had told her and what she had since heard of the woman at the Hippodrome. Mrs. Tate was greatly interested, and laughed immoderately; afterward, however, when she had returned home and thought over the conversation, she regarded it more seriously. "What do you think, Percy?" she said at the dinner table that night. "Those Hippodrome people have engaged a creature to dive into a tank of water from a platform. Of course, that's to take the place of Madame Le Baron's plunge. Could anything be more absurd? The worst of it is that the poor little woman is frightfully jealous already. I could see that from the way she talked. What a dreadful world it is, isn't it? They're all like that, aren't they, even the best of them? Do you remember that poor Madame Gardini who sang here one night? She told me if she had her life to live over again she'd never dream of going on the stage. She said opera-singers were the unhappiest people in the world,--just poisoned with jealousy. And these circus people are exactly like them!" "What makes you think she's jealous? What was it she said?" "It wasn't _what_ she said, it was the _way_ she talked about the woman. Her husband says she's a great beauty." "Ah, the husband says so, does he?" Tate remarked dryly. A moment later he added: "I wish you hadn't had anything to do with those people!" "You've said that a dozen times, Percy, and I wish you'd stop. For my part, I'm very glad I've met them. If I hadn't, that poor little creature would be in her grave before the end of a year." "Perhaps she'll wish that she _were_ in her grave before the end of the year." "What do you mean by that?" "Nothing, dear, nothing. Don't catch at everything I say. How is she now--any better? I suppose she's easier in mind now that she's going to stop that diving?" "That's the strangest thing about it," Mrs. Tate answered, with a change of tone. "I thought she would be, too, but she isn't. I really believe she's sorry she's giving it up. But perhaps that's because she's been doing it all her life. She'll miss it at first--even if it did worry her nearly to death!" "Has Dr. Broughton been to see her lately?" "No; he said it wouldn't be necessary. He's going to wait to see what effect the rest from the diving will have on her." For a few moments Tate looked thoughtfully at his wife. "Upon my word," he said, "I half suspect that you _want_ something to happen to that little woman. It would just be romantic enough to suit you." "Percy, how can you talk so? You're simply brutal." "She might at least break a leg to please you," her husband laughed, "before giving up that plunge."