"She has money and caste--and she used to have plenty of friends," Burgoyne added. "She hasn't as many friends as she once had," said Pendleton, slowly; "though what she has are powerful. Lorraine's and Mrs. Amherst's friends will be against her--and the fact that she ran away with such a fellow as Amherst will be more against her than anything else. If she had chosen a popular young chap, instead of a middle-aged rouè-on-the-quiet, Society would be more ready with forgiveness." Just then Devereux rounded the corner, with a paper in his hand, and hurried over. "Have you seen the _Evening Telegraph_?" he asked. "No?--Well, Amherst has come back!" "Back--to America?" asked Burgoyne. "Back to _this town_--and gone again--with Mrs. Amherst and the children--to Europe! What do you think of that?" Burgoyne gave a soft whistle of astonishment. Pendleton shrugged his shoulders a trifle and smiled grimly. "You're not properly appreciative of news," declared Devereux. "Why don't you say something?" "You don't appreciate news yourself," Burgoyne answered. "We are simply dumb with amazement." "Is that the way it impresses you?" Devereux demanded, looking at Pendleton. "Not at all!" said Pendleton. "I'm not surprised. It is just what I expected of Amherst." "But Mrs. Amherst--to take him back!" Devereux exclaimed. "It is the way of expediency under all the circumstances. She was wise." "Well, I'd be damned if I would take him back!" Devereux declared. "I don't fancy you would, Dev!" Pendleton smiled. "You're not a woman, you know." "Does the _Telegraph_ say anything as to Mrs. Lorraine's whereabouts?" Burgoyne asked. "They can't locate her but they think she is in New York," Devereux answered--and went on with his news. Pendleton, who was facing outward, suddenly leaned forward. "The _Telegraph_ seems to have made a poor guess," said he. "Yonder is Mrs. Lorraine now." "Where?" Burgoyne cried, starting around. "In the Victoria--coming up the drive." "God!" Burgoyne exclaimed. "What a daring thing to do! And she is alone, too." Pendleton got up. "I'm going to meet her--will you come along?" he asked. "I will, indeed," said Burgoyne. "I like Stephanie--and I like her nerve." II THE RETURN OF THE OFFENDER Others than Pendleton had seen who was the occupant of the approaching Victoria. And the news spread like the wind, with a bustle and a buzz that swelled--grew louder and louder as the horses swung swiftly along the front and drew up at the entrance--suddenly to be hushed to a fearful calm as Montague Pendleton and Sheldon Burgoyne stepped out to meet her. She saw the two men, and sat leaning on her sunshade, a smile on her lips, waiting--but without a glance toward the piazza and its expectant crowd:--a slender woman, gowned in white, with a great black hat topping auburn hair and shading a face that was almost flawless in its proud, cold beauty. "My dear Stephanie, I am _glad_ to see you!" said Pendleton.