"A painted butterfly!" Audrey's lip curled at the phrase. It exactly described the kind of woman her father's animal nature would be drawn to. In her mind's eye she saw the pathetic figure of her mother trying to recover her faded prettiness with Madame Coralie's assistance, so as to win back a love that required to be stimulated by mere beauty of form and face. And a music-hall artist! "Is she respectable?" asked Audrey, suddenly. "Oh, quite," said Mrs. Mellop, laughing artificially. "But I wonder why you ask?" "Oh, I merely heard her name," answered Audrey, quietly. "Why do you laugh?" Mrs. Mellop tried to stop tittering. "Oh, my dear, I can see it all," she said gaily; "your face betrays you. To think that he should run after her!" "He? Who?" asked Audrey, drawing up her slight figure, and wincing at the thought that this gossiping woman was about to pronounce her father's name. "Why, Mr. Shawe, of course." "Mr. Shawe!" The girl grew violently red. "He doesn't run after Miss Pearl." "Oh, I know he loves you, dear," said the widow, in a tantalising way. "Anyone can see that when he's in the room, and everyone knows that he is as good as engaged to you, although your father won't hear of your marrying the poor man. But"--she made a gesture of contempt--"he's a man after all." "Have you any ground to say that Mr. Shawe runs after--" "Only your face, dear, and your strong desire to know about Miss Pearl." "If that is all," said Audrey, with quiet scorn, "you can exonerate Ralph from being an admirer of Miss Pearl. I know that he is true to me." "And you call him Ralph," said her visitor, glibly; "my dear, what will your father say? He wants you to marry Lord Anvers." "What! That puny little racing man? He has never said anything to me about it, Mrs. Mellop, and if he does I shall certainly refuse to entertain the idea. And since you have hinted that all the world knows my business," she went on, looking the widow straight in the face, "you can inform everyone, on my authority, that I intend to marry Mr. Shawe, and that we are engaged." "With your father's consent, dear?" "Never mind." Audrey was glad to see that Mrs. Mellop's attention had been taken off the name of Rosy Pearl, as she did not want, for obvious reasons, to talk about the lady. "My father and I understand one another." "Oh, I dare say, dear; but do your father and Mr. Shawe understand one another? I'm sure I hope so, as it means so much money to Mr. Shawe." "Ralph marries me for myself, and not for my money," said the girl, hotly. "No doubt, dear; but he's got an eye to the main chance, like the rest of us." Audrey again looked straightly at the pretty, artificial, frivolous face. "I think not," she said coolly; "Ralph is not like other men." "Ah!"--Mrs. Mellop became serious--"we all think men are angels until we marry them, dear. And this Rosy Pearl attracts--"