“Mr. Darrow probably knows his Bible as well as I do,” Miss Painter calmly rejoined; adding a moment later, without the least perceptible change of voice or expression: “I suppose you’ve heard that Gisele de Folembray’s husband accuses her of being mixed up with the Duc d’Arcachon in that business of trying to sell a lot of imitation pearls to Mrs. Homer Pond, the Chicago woman the Duke’s engaged to? It seems the jeweller says Gisele brought Mrs. Pond there, and got twenty-five per cent--which of course she passed on to d’Arcachon. The poor old Duchess is in a fearful state--so afraid her son’ll lose Mrs. Pond! When I think that Gisele is old Bradford Wagstaff’s grand-daughter, I’m thankful he’s safe in Mount Auburn!” XXII It was not until late that afternoon that Darrow could claim his postponed hour with Anna. When at last he found her alone in her sitting-room it was with a sense of liberation so great that he sought no logical justification of it. He simply felt that all their destinies were in Miss Painter’s grasp, and that, resistance being useless, he could only enjoy the sweets of surrender. Anna herself seemed as happy, and for more explicable reasons. She had assisted, after luncheon, at another debate between Madame de Chantelle and her confidant, and had surmised, when she withdrew from it, that victory was permanently perched on Miss Painter’s banners. “I don’t know how she does it, unless it’s by the dead weight of her convictions. She detests the French so that she’d back up Owen even if she knew nothing--or knew too much--of Miss Viner. She somehow regards the match as a protest against the corruption of European morals. I told Owen that was his great chance, and he’s made the most of it.” “What a tactician you are! You make me feel that I hardly know the rudiments of diplomacy,” Darrow smiled at her, abandoning himself to a perilous sense of well-being. She gave him back his smile. “I’m afraid I think nothing short of my own happiness is worth wasting any diplomacy on!” “That’s why I mean to resign from the service of my country,” he rejoined with a laugh of deep content. The feeling that both resistance and apprehension were vain was working like wine in his veins. He had done what he could to deflect the course of events: now he could only stand aside and take his chance of safety. Underneath this fatalistic feeling was the deep sense of relief that he had, after all, said and done nothing that could in the least degree affect the welfare of Sophy Viner. That fact took a millstone off his neck. Meanwhile he gave himself up once more to the joy of Anna’s presence. They had not been alone together for two long days, and he had the lover’s sense that he had forgotten, or at least underestimated, the strength of the spell she cast. Once more her eyes and her smile seemed to bound his world. He felt that their light would always move with him as the sunset moves before a ship at sea.