"That's a hobby of hers. One must have a hobby. Going out this afternoon, Marie?" Mildred took the hint instantly. "I must be off," she said. "Really, Jack, you have the most brutal manner. You send me to the right-about with the least possible ceremony. So I wish to tell you I was going in any case. I've a hundred things to do." Jack rose. "When have you not? I'll see you down. Wait a minute, Marie, if you're not in a hurry; I want to have a word with you." "Oh, don't trouble," said Mildred. "I can find my way." Jack said nothing, but merely followed her into the house, and when they had passed the drawing-room, "Has she been cutting up rough about anything in particular?" he asked. "Oh, no; merely the rigid attitude, fire-works, thunder-storms, what you will." "I'm rather tired of them. For several reasons she had better stop. I believe most idiots find it amusing." Mildred took a parasol out of the stand, with the air of a purchaser selecting the one that most struck her fancy. As a matter of fact, it happened to be her own. "I should take care if I were you," she said in a low voice. "A man like you cannot form the least idea of what a woman like Marie really is. Is my carriage here? Just see, please." She stood on the bottom step of the stairs, putting on her rather thick and masculine driving-gloves, while Jack crossed the hall and rang the bell. Then he came back to the bottom of the stairs again. "Do you mean that she suspects anything?" he asked. "No, of course not. What I do mean is that she is beginning to see what we all are like. You and I, when we see that, are delighted. It is a nice big playground. But it does not strike Marie as a playground. Also you must remember that she is the--how shall I say it!--the sensation, the latest, the fashion. You've got to be careful. She is capable of exploding some day, and if she did it would be noticeable. It will hardly be worth while picking up the fragments of you and me that remain, Jack, if she does. Because if she does, it will be since something has touched her personally." "Well?" "You are extraordinarily slow. Of course the person who is most likely to touch her personally is you." "I've got to mind my p's and q's, in fact. That's not the way to manage her." Mrs. Brereton's face clouded a little as she walked across the hall to the door which was being held open for her. "Well, _au revoir_," she said. "I shall have more to say to you to-night. You dine with us, you know."