"What _was_ to be done?" asked Mrs. Sandworth patiently. She was quite used to understanding but half of what her brother said and had acquired a quiet art of untangling by tireless questionings the thread of narrative from the maze of his comments and ejaculations. "There was nothing to be done. I was too late." "You didn't burst in on them while Paul was kissing her or anything, did you?" "Paul wasn't there." "Not there! Why, Marius, you're worse than usual. Didn't you tell me her mother said--" "He had been there--one look at Lydia showed that. She sat there alone in the dim light, her face as white--and when I came in she said, without looking to see who it was, 'I'm engaged to Paul.' She said it to her mother, who was right after me, of course, and then to Marietta." "Well--!" breathed Mrs. Sandworth as he paused; "so that was all there was to it?" "Oh, no; they did the proper thing. They kissed her, and cried, and congratulated everybody, and her mother said, with an eye on me: 'Darling, you're _not_ doing this just because you know it'll make us so very happy, _are_ you?' Lydia said, 'Oh, no; she supposed not,' and started to go upstairs. But when Marietta said she'd go and telephone to Flora Burgess to announce it, Lydia came down like a flash. It was _not_ to be announced she told them; she'd _die_ if they told anybody! Paul had promised solemnly not to tell anybody. Her mother said, of course she knew how Lydia felt about it. It _was_ a handicap for a girl in her first season. Lydia was half-way up the stairs again, but at that she looked down at her mother--_God!_ Julia, if a child of mine had ever looked at me like that--" Mrs. Sandworth patted him vaguely. "Oh, people always look white and queer in the twilight, you know--even quite _florid_ complexions." The doctor made a rush to the door. "But dinner must be ready to put on the table," she called after him. "Put it on, then," he cried, and disappeared. A plain statement was manna to Mrs. Sandworth. She had finished her soup, and was beginning on her hamburg steak when the doctor came soberly in, took his place, and began to eat in silence. She took up the conversation where they had left it. "So it's all over," she commented, watching his plate to see that he did not forget to salt his meat and help himself to gravy. "Nothing's ever over in a human life," he contradicted her. "Why do you suppose she doesn't want it announced?" "You don't suppose she means to break it off later?" "I haven't any idea _what_ she means, any more than she has, poor child! But it's plain that this is only to gain time--a sop to the wolves." "Wolves!" cried poor Mrs. Sandworth. "Well, tigers and hyenas, perhaps," he added moderately. "They're crazy about Lydia, that whole Emery family," she protested. "They are that," he agreed sardonically. "But I don't mean only her family. I mean unclean prowling standards of what's what, as well as--"