"I wish Hubert didn’t have to know. Perhaps he won’t; and yet—Let us think." She dropped into a chair nearer to Jennie than the one behind the tea table. "One thing I _must_ ask you. What happened after you and Bob went through that ceremony yesterday afternoon?" "Nothing happened. He motored back to his friends on Long Island and I took the ferry and went home. He said he’d see me on Saturday to say good-by." "Where?" "Oh, I don’t know. In Central Park, I expect. He’s asked me to meet him there once or twice already." "But I wouldn’t go anywhere else with him if I were you—not into a house, or anything." "I won’t if he doesn’t make me." "I’d be firm about that. You see, if you did—well, I’m sure you understand—it might—it might make it harder for you to find your way out to where you’d be happy again. Are you sure you see what I mean?" "I’ve had that out with him. He’d said that nothing would happen till he got back from South America." Relieved by this simple statement, Junia went on. "And if I were you, I wouldn’t say a word to anybody—not even to your own father and mother. Your mother is living, isn’t she? Don’t even tell Bob that you’ve seen me. Don’t tell anyone anything. Let it be your secret and mine. I want you to feel that I’m your friend and anxious to help you out of the muddle in which you’ve tied up your happiness. At first, when you told me, I thought more of Hubert; but now that we’ve talked I’m thinking of you, too, and how much I should like to see you—" A dim smile conveyed the rest of the thought while she rose again. "Now I’ll go. Don’t be alarmed if I’m a little long. Max will take care of you." Left to herself, Jennie’s emotions came in waves of conflicting calculation. Had she only been in love with Bob, and not with Hubert, all this graciousness would have lapped her round in silk and softness. Nothing would have been denied her from a limousine to pearls. There would have been the villa for the family, with Gussie and Gladys turned into "buds." But, as an offset to it, there would be the renunciation. Somehow, since cutting herself away from Hubert by the ceremony with Bob, he seemed nearer to her than before. Things she had supposed to be out of the question now presented themselves as more in the line of those that could be done. Within twenty-four hours she had lived much; she had ripened much. Now that she had had this talk with Mrs. Collingham, Hubert became more definitely an alternative. She could choose him and let this wealth and beauty go, or she could choose the wealth and beauty and let him.... But at the thought of turning her back on him something seemed to choke her. To choose what money could buy instead of this great love was treachery to all she knew as sublime. She clutched herself over the heart. It was as if she were going to die. Max was so startled that he sprang upon her with his mighty paws in the roughness of young consternation.