"I'm sorry my friends must be insulted, mother, just because I have ventured to invite them to your house. Believe me, if I had a house of my own I would not trouble you either with my friends or myself." Tears rose to Mrs. Conway's eyes. She was so deeply hurt she could not even pretend that she wasn't; so hurt that she spoke naturally to the governess when for a second after luncheon, owing to the withdrawal in opposite directions of her two daughters, she found herself alone with the interloper. "Young people are so cruel," she said. "What more could I do for Dolly? I sacrifice poor little Antonia, I make the house hers--and she tells me practically she only stays with me because she has to." As Pearl went upstairs Dolly called her into her room--the first time she had ever done such a thing. But after all the woman with all her faults had the virtue of not being a member of the family. "You see what I mean, Miss Exeter," she said, looking up from polishing her nails with a feverish rapidity. "Everything in this house is done for Antonia--or would be if I did not fight for my rights. Nobody likes to make a scene, but to ask a man like Mr. Williams--you don't know, but women--older women--married women--like Mrs. Temple--so silly--it just bores Allen; but he feels he ought to go there, and when he said he would come here instead, fancy my having to put him off because Antonia wanted that fat Olive to come, when Olive lives here anyhow." Pearl's limpid gray eyes gazed at her sympathetically. It was her nature to be sympathetic, and presently Dolly was telling her how she had first met Allen, how he had danced and how wonderfully their steps went together. It seemed as if she had remembered every syllable that had ever fallen from his lips, and loved to repeat them, though they were of a conspicuously commonplace character. Then she confided a secret--he had asked himself. She would never have dared to ask him. "Dared!" said Pearl, every inch the feminist. "Oh, well," Dolly retreated rapidly, "this house is so full of uninteresting children like Antonia and Durland--under your feet all day long; but when Allen said himself, telling how he didn't want to go to the Temples, 'Why don't you ask me?'----" Her voice softened over the remembered tones; of course she had asked him. Pearl's heart sank at this news. She wondered if she were vain to attach a dread significance to his initiative. She remembered that peculiar fierce stare from those pale eyes. Well, she wouldn't speak to him--that was all there was to that. Presently she left Dolly and went to knock on Antonia's door, which was suspiciously shut; usually Antonia lived and dressed open to corridors.