This astonishing statement looking at Flora through Ella's unsuspecting eyes had nevertheless a pathos of its own. It conjured up a long vista of harmonious existence which the two, the daughter and the father, had made out of their mutual simplicity, and their mutual gusto for the material comforts which came comfortably. "But I'll tell you one thing," Ella ended, still rocking vigorously; "if she comes here to-night to dinner when she knows I don't want her I shall tell her what I think of her, before she leaves this house! See if I don't." "Don't do that, Ella," Flora entreated, "that would be awful." She was certain that such an interview would only end in Clara's making Ella more ridiculous than she was already. "Let me speak to her. I don't mind at all," she declared bravely, and in a manner truly, though she was fully aware that speaking to Clara would be anything but a treat. "Oh, would you?" said Ella eagerly. "I really would be awfully obliged. I hated to ask you, Flora, but I thought perhaps you might be able to--to, well, perhaps be able to do something," she ended vaguely. "Do you think you could?" "I'll speak to Clara to-night," said Flora heroically, "or to-morrow," she added; "I'm afraid I won't see her to-night." "Well, I'll let you know if it makes any difference," said Ella hopefully. Flora knew that nothing either of them could say would make any difference to Clara, or turn her from the thing she was pursuing; but by speaking she might at least find out if Judge Buller himself were really her object. And Ella's wail of assured calamity, "Papa has always been so happy with me," touched her with its absurd pathos. She kissed Ella's misty cheek at parting. It wasn't fair, she thought remorsefully, for people like the Bullers to be at large on the same planet with people like Clara--and herself--and--and like--Her thoughts ran off into the fog. At least, thank heaven, it was the judge Clara was trailing and not Kerr. The bells and whistles of one o'clock were making clangor as she ran up the steps of her house again. In the hall Shima presented her with a card. She looked at it with a quickening pulse. "Is he waiting?" "No, madam. Mr. Kerr has gone. He waited half an hour." Down went her spirits again. Yet surely after their last interview she ought not to be eager to meet him again. "In the morning," she thought, "and waited half an hour. How he must have wanted to see me!" She didn't know whether she liked that or not. "When did he come?" "At eleven o'clock." At this she was frightened; he had missed Harry by less than half an hour. "He waited all that time alone?" "No. Mr. Cressy came." Flora felt a cold thrill in her nerves. Then Harry had come back! What had he come for? "He also would wait," the Japanese explained. Flora gasped. "They waited together!" The Japanese shook his head. "They went away together." She didn't believe her ears. "Mr. Kerr went away with Mr. Cressy?"