"No, dear. That is ... well, it concerns him; but I think that, if anything, he is to be congratulated. It is something to find out.... Here, read it yourself." She took the paper from the owner, and handed it to Rose. It was the page devoted to happenings in society, and from the top centre looked forth a two-column cut of Marion Treville's strikingly beautiful face. Beneath was a stick of text, which read: "Back Bay society is buzzing with the rumor, which comes from an apparently unimpeachable source, that the beautiful Miss Treville of Beacon Street, who, since her debut seven years ago, has been one of the leaders of Boston's smartest set, is about to announce her engagement to Stanley Everts Vandermeer, the well-known New York millionaire sportsman. Miss Treville was formerly betrothed to Dr. Donald MacDonald, the famous children's specialist of this city, who has been in France for more than two years. No previous intimation had been given that this engagement had been broken." Rose read the brief article twice, mechanically, and almost without understanding. Then a wave of hot anger, akin to that which had possessed her on the mountain on the afternoon when her eyes had first been opened to the duplicity of human nature, swept over her. It was only by a strong effort that she refrained from crushing the sheet, and speaking aloud her denunciation of the woman whose behavior so outraged her sense of justice. [Illustration: "READ THE BRIEF ARTICLE TWICE, MECHANICALLY, AND ALMOST WITHOUT UNDERSTANDING"] The call came for the morning prayer, and she handed the paper back without a word; but for once the simple exercises, which, on this morning, should have meant so much more than usual, wholly failed to bring their customary peace. Her lips formed the words of the prayer, and joined in the singing of the hymn, but her mind was far away in France, and her heart rebellious within her.