Hynes's pinched face took colour. With alacrity he obeyed the General's orders, fetching plates and glasses, and hovering about the group that included Milly and her mother, until Mrs. Baker's face began to wear a disturbed flush, though Milly's small, white features remained impassive. I watched the little drama with dawning comprehension. Then Ned did not--Helen--it was really Ethel's sister with whom he longed to make peace, while I--Ethel-- Helen's voice roused me. "Can't we go into the other room?" she asked. "I'm tired; can't we go and sit quietly together?" With the fading of the glow and colour left by the music, she looked indeed tired, almost haggard. In spite of the regal self possession with which she rose, drawing Ethel with her, I knew in the face of Milly's triumph-yes, I had known before--why her restless spirit had spurred her on to such flights of folly; why she had--she brings no love to me; has she perhaps offered pity? We turned together to the door, but there was a sound of hurrying feet, and Miss Bryant rushed before us, followed by a big bearded giant of a man. "Forbear and eat no more till my necessities be served," she declaimed, advancing to the table. "Food has not passed my lips to-day; or--not much food." "Cadge!" gasped Helen with a choking laugh, sinking again upon her chair. Reid calmly extended a plate of salad to his betrothed, while Kitty groaned, scandalized:-- "You mustn't eat now! You mustn't! Where've you been? Look at the state you're in! _Don't_ eat, Cadge; you must dress this minute!" "Bridgeport," returned Miss Bryant, grinning benevolently on the wedding guests, her wet hair clinging about her face, her shirt waist dampened with the raindrops that trickled from her hatbrim. "Driving an antelope to a racing sulky. If _I_ bear marks, y'ought to see the antelope; _and_ the sulky! Seven column picture, Kitty; I've made a lay-out. You must get right at it--antelope kicking the atmosphere into small pieces--" "Cadge," suggested Reid, mildly, "our train leaves at midnight." "We'll make it; but this story must come out whether or not 'Mrs. Prosper K. Reid' does. Won't dress, but--say, just you show my wedding gown, Kitty; not for publication but as an evidence--more salad, Pros." Kitty ran and brought a billowy mass of fleecy white stuff, and Cadge stood, devouring salad, over the dainty thing, gesticulating at it with her fork and explaining its beauties:-- "You can see for yourselves it's swell. Mrs. Edgar fitted me at the _Star_ office, with furious mug-makers pounding on the door." "With _what_?" gasped the General. "Mug-makers; alleged artists; after an old photo. Anyhow, it's money in Mrs. Edgar's pocket. One of her biggest customers owes her a lot, she says, and she can't get a cent; needed cash to pay her rent; little boy ill, too. My, but I'm hungry! Can't I eat while I'm being married?" I felt Helen start; I remembered that I had seen Mrs. Edgar's name among her bills. Poor girl!