Waggin protested, and slipped her thin hand into the girl's. The note of storm in Marcia's mood struck her sharply. She tried, for a moment, to change the subject. Who, she asked, was a tall, fair girl whom she had seen with Mr. Arthur, "a week ago" at the National Gallery? "I took my little niece--and suddenly I turned, and there at the end of the room were Mr. Arthur--and this lady. Such a remarkable-looking young woman!--not exactly handsome--but you couldn't possibly pass her over." "Enid Glenwilliam!" exclaimed Marcia, with a startled voice. "But of course, Waggin, they weren't alone?" "Oh no--probably not!--though--though I didn't see any one else. They seemed so full of talk--I didn't speak to Mr. Arthur. _Who_ do you say she was?" repeated Waggin, innocently. Marcia turned upon her. "The daughter of the man mother hates most in the world! It's too bad of Arthur! It's abominable! It would kill mother if she knew! I've heard things said sometimes--but I never believed them for a moment. Oh, Waggin!--you _didn't_ see them alone?" The voice changed into what was almost a wail of indignation. "Of course Enid Glenwilliam would never consider appearances for a moment. She does exactly what suits her. She never bothers about chaperons, unless she absolutely must. When she sees what she wants she takes it. But _Arthur_!" Marcia leaned back in the car, and as in the crush of the traffic they passed under a lamp Waggin saw a countenance of genuine distress. "Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry to have worried you. How stupid of me to mention it! I'm sure there's nothing in it." "I've half suspected it for the last month," said Marcia with low-toned emphasis. "But I wouldn't believe it!--I shall tell Arthur what I think of him! Though, mind you, I admire Enid Glenwilliam myself enormously; but that's quite another thing. It's as though mother were never to have any pleasure in any of us! Nothing but worry and opposition!--behind her back, too." "My dear!--it was probably nothing! Girls do just as they like nowadays, and who notices!" said Waggin, disingenuously. "And as to pleasing your mother, I know somebody who has only to put out her hand--" "To please mother--and somebody else?" said Marcia, turning toward her with perfect composure. "You're thinking of Edward Newbury?" "Who else should I be thinking of!--after all you told me last week?" "Oh yes--I like Edward Newbury"--the tone betrayed a curious irritation--"and apparently he likes me. But if he tries to make me answer him too soon I shall say No, Waggin, and there will be an end of it!" "Marcia--dearest!--don't be cruel to him!"