"More than I care to repeat, Cricket. We won't talk about Mrs. Walraven, either." "But, guardy, are you really going to send her away?" "I really and truly am. She goes to-morrow. Now, Mollie Dane, there's no need for you to wear that pleading face. She goes--that's flat! I wouldn't live in the same house with her now for a kingdom. If you say another word about it we'll quarrel." He strode off like a sulky lion, and Mollie, feeling as though it were all her fault, was left disconsolate and uncomfortable enough. "I had rather they had made it up," she thought. "I don't want to be the cause of parting man and wife. She behaved atrociously, no doubt, and deserves punishment; but I wish the punishment had fallen on the man, not the woman. It's a shame to make her suffer and let that horrible doctor off scot-free." Mr. Walraven, in his study, meantime, had written a letter to Lawyer Sardonyx, detailing in brief his wishes, and requesting him to call upon Mrs. Walraven in the course of the day. That done, he quitted the house, determined to return no more until she had left. The afternoon brought Hugh Ingelow. Mollie was alone in her room, having a very anxious time; but when his name was announced, she dropped the book she was trying to read and made a headlong rush down-stairs. If Hugh Ingelow had seen the rosy light that leaped into her cheeks, the glad sparkle that kindled in her eyes at the sound of his name, he could hardly have been insensible to their flattering import. Mr. Ingelow congratulated her on her bright looks as he shook hands. "I never saw you looking better," he said, with earnest admiration. "Looks are deceitful, then," said Mollie, shaking her early head dolefully. "I don't think I ever felt worse, even when cooped up in Doctor Oleander's prison." "Really! What has gone wrong now?" the artist inquired. "Everything dreadful! The most shocking tempests in tea-pots. Guardy is going to separate from his wife!" "Indeed!" said Mr. Ingelow, coolly. "The very best thing he could do." "Oh, Mr. Ingelow!" "Quite true, Mollie. She's a Tartar, if ever there was a Tartar. He committed a terrible act of folly when he married her; let him show his return to wisdom by sending her adrift. I don't pity her in the least. If he forgave her this time, she would simply despise him, and begin her machinations all over again." "No! Do you think so? Then I'm not to blame?" "You!" Mr. Ingelow laughed. "I should think not, indeed! Set that tender little heart of yours at rest, Mollie. Blanche Walraven is big and fierce, and able to take care of herself. Let us get rid of her quietly; if we can, and be thankful." "Mr. Sardonyx is with her now," said Mollie, "arranging matters. Oh, dear! I can't help feeling nervous and troubled about it. It's not fair to punish her and let Doctor Oleander go off scot-free."