"She is a remarkably beautiful young woman," he returned, in his impartial way of shedding optimism. Electra made an impatient gesture. "I know--I know. It's easy enough to be handsome." "Oh, is it?" commented Madam Fulton. "But what do you think of her?" "What do you mean, Electra?" asked her grandmother testily. She was prepared to hear that Electra thought the stranger lacking in poise. A deep red had risen to Electra's cheeks. Her hands flew together in a nervous clasp. She had momentarily lost what poise she herself possessed. "Can't you see," she urged, "that girl is an adventuress?" Grandmother was leaning forward, enchanted at the prospect. She seemed to have before her an absorbing work of fiction, "concluded in our next." "Now what makes you think so?" she inquired cosily. "Wouldn't that be grand! Stay here, Billy. If there's any scandal about Queen Elizabeth, you must share it." Electra was speaking with a high impatience. "Of course she is an adventuress. You must see it, both of you." "Is that all the evidence you have?" asked the old lady dryly. Electra blenched a little. She liked to have irrefutable fact on her side, and allow other people the generalities. Yet her certainty remained untouched. "Does Peter say she is Tom's wife?" inquired Madam Fulton, in some scorn at herself for putting elementary questions. "Yes. Peter says she was Tom's wife." "There, you see!" But at Electra's look, the old lady cried out to Stark, in irrepressible annoyance, "No, she doesn't see! It doesn't mean a thing to her." "It will be quite easy," said Stark soothingly, "to assure yourself, Miss Electra. She will no doubt tell you where she was married. That can be confirmed at once." "She must present her proofs," said Electra. "I shall not ask for them." "What do you hate the poor girl for?" asked Madam Fulton. "Is it the money? Are you afraid you've got to share with her?" Billy Stark had been nearing the door, and now he was out of the room. "Have you told Peter how you feel about it?" asked the old lady keenly. Electra seemed to herself to be unjustly upon her own defense when she had meant to place the stranger there. "He knows it, grandmother." She spoke as impatiently as decorum would allow. The old lady watched her for a moment steadily. Then she inquired,-- "Do you know what's the matter with you, Electra?" "With me, grandmother?" "You're jealous, child. You're jealous of Peter, because the girl's so pretty." Electra stood still, the color surging over her face. She felt out of doors for all the world to jeer at, and without the blameless habit of her life. Nothing, Electra told herself, even at that moment, had the value of the truth. If she believed herself to be jealous, she must not shirk it, degrading as it was. But she would not believe it. "You must excuse me, grandmother," she said, with dignity. "I can't discuss such things, even with you." Madam Fulton spoke quite eagerly.