"By using dispatch I can catch the boat at Wintergreen this afternoon," he said. "I wish you'd tell your mother, Norma, only your mother, please; it will be time enough to acquaint the others when the whole affair is out. And, Norma, I can trust you, I know; keep the matter quiet here as long as possible. These people are strangers; they know nothing. I don't want to be in every body's mouth--a nine days' wonder, _here_ as well as in New York. It will be bad enough there. Promise me to keep it quiet, Norma." Thorne had reasons for the request. He had ascertained, beyond all doubt, that no hint of his story had as yet reached Pocahontas. He was surprised at first, for he thought all women gossiped, and the affair had never been a secret. He did not conceive for a moment, that the fact of his divorce would be a permanent stumbling block in the way of his happiness, but he realized something of the conservatism of her surroundings, and the old world influences and prejudices amid which she had been reared. She would be shocked and startled at first; she would have to grow accustomed to the idea, then reconciled to it. He recognized at a glance the immense advantage it would be to him to tell his story himself, and, in his own way, to enlist her sympathy and to arouse her indignation and her partisanship. The explanation of the girl's ignorance is simple and natural. The intercourse between the two families was cordial and frequent, but there were reservations--tracts of territory which were never trenched on. There was about the Masons a certain fine reserve which discouraged promiscuous and effusive confidences. Exhaustive investigation of their neighbors' affairs had never been their practice; it was a proud family; a conservative family. The Smiths had seen no reason to give publicity to their _own_ particular family scandal. Other people's skeletons were interesting, but the rattling of the bones of their own annoyed them. Then, too, it was such an old story, its interest as gossip had passed, its piquancy had evaporated. These people knew none of the parties; it could be to them of no possible interest even as narrative. There had been no definite determination on the part of the Smiths to say nothing of the affair; but nothing had been said. Thorne did not correspond with his wife, nor did any member of his family, so there were no tell-tale letters to excite comment or curiosity at the village post-office. How was Pocahontas to know? With Thorne's good pleasure, her ignorance would remain until he himself should lift it.