“Mrs. Osborne--why do you listen to Mrs. Osborne?” Allestree broke out, with a fury which astounded Miss English; “she has no right to speak of Rose Temple, it’s--it’s an outrage!” Gerty stared at him a moment in silence, her face reddening still more with the horrified recognition of another blunder; of course she knew that he had always loved Rose, in fact she had discounted his devotion as too stale an affair to be really vital. “I know Lily Osborne is a cat, _of_ course,” she said slowly, “but then one can’t be rude without any given reason. She didn’t say a word against Rose, and I suppose it’s natural enough if Fox has admired her; everybody does.” But Allestree was not appeased. “Mrs. Osborne!” he broke out again, “of all women--Mrs. Osborne! Gerty, don’t you let her say a word to you again.” “Good heavens, Robert, I shan’t dare squeak after this!” Miss English retorted plaintively; “and, of course, Mrs. Osborne will marry White and, they say, he’s going to lose his place in the Cabinet. What on earth has she been doing about the Russian and German ambassadors?” “I don’t know,” said Allestree sharply, “and I don’t care!” Gerty rose abruptly and picked up her parasol. “Robert,” she said with feeling, “you’re like a bear with a sore head, and I always said you had such a nice disposition; I should have fallen in love with you myself if I hadn’t had a snub nose and freckles.” In spite of himself Robert laughed. “Was that an insurmountable barrier, Gerty?” “Certainly; snub nosed girls never fall in love with artists, it isn’t profitable!” and Gerty moved toward the door. As she did so she glanced out of the open window. “There’s Rose now,” she said and beckoned gayly; “she’ll come up and make amends for my blunders!” she laughed. Allestree colored hotly, aware that he had betrayed himself; the amazing indelicacy of Gerty’s raillery was not inconsistent with her usual careless freedom of speech which gave much unwitting pain and had cost her correspondingly dear more than once, yet it made him wince to encounter it, to feel her thoughtless probe sink into the dearest recesses of his heart and be powerless to resent it. Frankness, after all, is frequently a doubtful virtue; like a two-edged sword it cleaves both ways and leaves no healing balsam in its train. It was Margaret White who always said that an expert and comfortable liar was an absolute blessing to society. Meanwhile, Rose had dismounted at the door and come up stairs with no other motive than a desire to escape her own society. The sight of Gerty at the window furnished her with an excuse, and she came in still pale, in spite of her swift gallop by the river, and with a look in her eyes which shocked Allestree; he had never seen pain in her look before. Miss English greeted her affectionately; at heart she was really penitent. “I came up here to see Lily Osborne’s picture,” she declared, “and Robert has sent it off already! Isn’t it a shame? I hadn’t seen it.”