"Dearest," she said, "It will all come right some time. I'm glad to be free of Harry Lorraine, though I'm sorry I did what I did with Amherst, for your sake--and a little for my own now. But it is done and it cannot be undone; and we're not given, either of us, to crying over milk that's spilt. Let us be glad rather that I'm quit of Amherst without a--drag.... It wasn't by any fault of his that I am, however. I don't want you to be made to suffer for my folly. I know you can't escape feeling it, but you must not make my quarrel yours. Let me fight it out alone. I'll go away--take an apartment of my own, where I won't weigh you down by my presence, and make your friends shy of you and your house. I'll----" "My dear little girl, you'll do nothing of the sort," Mrs. Mourraille broke in, kissing the auburn head. "The milk is spilt, as you say--so let us forget it. You don't want Lorraine, so we'll not consider him. We'll consider you, and the future." "And you!" whispered Stephanie. "We won't consider me--except indirectly. Whatever is best for you, dear, is best for me. We will fight this out together." "You sweet mother!" said Stephanie, drawing the dark head down beside her own. "You shall be in reserve; I'll be on the firing line--and I won't let them get through to you." Her mother smiled in tender clemency. "I'll be wherever you want me and whenever," she replied.... "We might go away for a time," she suggested. Stephanie shook her head. "I'll go if you want very much but it doesn't appeal to me. It will only postpone, by the length of our absence, my restoration to--good standing!" she smiled. "You wish to stay here?" "Yes--among my friends--to the end that I may learn who they are." "You may have some bad quarters-of-an-hour, and receive some shocks beside," her mother cautioned. "Let them come--I've received enough shocks already to make me _immune_. It will be amusing, diverting, serve to make the time pass more rapidly." "My child!" said Mrs. Mourraille kindly. "You don't appreciate just what you are saying." "I do, mother dear, and what it means also. I have to face it, so I may as well get out of it what I can, and meet it with a smile. I may be wrong, but to my mind there is nothing like indifference for such a situation." "That is the best way to look at it, if you can--but can you? Can you be philosophical under the slights, and snubs, and bitter tongues?" "I think I can--at least, I mean to try," said Stephanie quietly. "With Gladys Chamberlain and Pendleton and Burgoyne, I'm not alone. They will stand by me--if I don't offend again.... And you need not fear, dear," answering her mother's look; "I'm not going to Amherst-it again--with any man." "Have you seen the afternoon papers?" Mrs. Mourraille asked.