Before she said good-by she looked deliberately about the room. It was not the hasty inspection I should have expected; it was tranquil, and I could even say that it was thorough. She made no mention of Mr. Grainger, but I couldn't help thinking he was in her mind. At the door to which I accompanied her, however, her manner changed. Before trusting herself to the few paces of walk running from the entrance to the wrought-iron gate, she glanced up and down the street. It was dark by this time, and the lamps were lit, but not till the pavement was tolerably clear did she venture out. Even then she didn't turn toward Fifth Avenue, which would have been her natural direction; but rapidly and, as I imagined, furtively, she walked the other way. I mentioned to no one that she had come to see me. Her kind thought of Hugh I was sorry to keep to myself; but I knew of no purpose to be served in divulging it. With my maxim to guide me it was not difficult to be sure that in this case right lay in silence. A few days later I got Hugh's doings from a new point of view. As I was going back to my lunch at the hotel, Mrs. Rossiter called to me from her motor and made me get in. The distance I had to cover being slight, she drove me up to Central Park and back again to have the time to talk. "My dear, he's crazy. He's going round to all the offices that practically turned him out six or eight weeks ago and begging them to find a place for him. Two or three of papa's old friends have written to ask what they could really do for him--for papa, that is--and he's sent them word that he'd take it as a favor if they'd show Hugh to the door." "Of course, if his father makes himself his enemy--" "He only makes himself his enemy in order to be his friend, dear Miss Adare. He's your friend, too, papa is, if you only saw it." "I'm afraid I don't," I said, dryly. "Oh, you will some day, and do him justice. He's the kindest man when you let him have his own way." "Which would be to separate Hugh and me." "But you'd both get over that; and I know he'd do the handsome thing by you, as well as by him." "So long as we do the handsome thing by each other--" "Oh, well, you can see where that leads to. Hugh'll never be in a position to marry you, dear Miss Adare." "He will when your father comes round." "Nonsense, my dear! You know you're not looking forward to that, not any more than I am." Later, as I was getting out at my door, she said, as if it was an afterthought: "Oh, by the way, you know papa has made me write to Lady Cissie Boscobel?" I looked up at her from the pavement. "What for?" "To ask her to come over and spend a month or two in New York. She says she will if she can. She's a good deal of a girl, Cissie is. If you're going to keep your hold on Hugh-- Well, all I can say is that Cissie will give you a run for your money. Of course, it's nothing to me. I only thought I'd tell you."