“Hush!” said Daniel, lifting a warning hand. Unheard by either of them, the front door had opened and closed. Fanchon crossed the hall lightly, her quick ear catching their voices. She came to the door now and stood there with flashing eyes. “You were talking about me,” she said with her amazing and terrible frankness. “I heard you!” “Oh, good gracious!” Mrs. Carter fled hastily to the door that opened into the kitchen pantry. “I’ve got to go and see Miranda,” she panted, and went out and shut the door. Daniel, left alone, rose from his chair. He was flushed, but his eyes twinkled. “We can’t help it, Fanchon,” he said amiably. “You’re the kind, you know. You don’t leave any neutrals in your territory.” She came in and flung her hat down on the table, uncovering her lovely, spirited head. She was dressed in a pale-yellow, clinging garment that seemed to reveal every line of her small figure, and certainly displayed her ankles, in silk stockings as amazing as Emily’s. “You’re awfully good people,” she said bitterly. “_Mon Dieu_! I’d rather meet some bad ones--who’d let me alone. You’re helping to make my husband hate me!” Daniel’s face sobered. “You’re doing William an injustice,” he said quietly. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. I’m very sure, too, that I’m not trying to make him.” She lifted her eyes slowly to his face and scanned it. Then she bit her lip. “No, I don’t think you are,” she replied with emphasis; “but your mother does, and so does your father. And there’s no need of it--there’s enough without that!” Daniel, who was still standing, leaned against the mantel, supporting himself and watching her gravely, unsmilingly. “Fanchon,” he said gently, “you don’t understand. It’s been your misfortune to come to us without knowing us. We’re just old-fashioned, stodgy people, and you amaze us. You’re like a bird of paradise in a chicken-yard. Give us a little time, Fanchon.” He paused and then added soberly: “My brother loves you.” She tossed her head, her bosom rising and falling stormily. “Leigh does!” she cried in a choked voice. “The boy--Leigh!” “I mean William,” said Daniel. She stared at him, breathing hard. “You think so? _Voilà!_ You haven’t heard him quarrel, you haven’t seen how he takes your mother’s side and your father’s side against me! And”--she laughed wildly--“you haven’t seen him alone--under the horse-chestnut tree--with that paragon, Virginia Denbigh!” Daniel’s arm fell from the mantel. He said nothing. He walked slowly to the table and picked up his books and papers. But Fanchon was stinging with anger. She had seen Mrs. Carter’s face, she had been treated with cold politeness by Mr. Carter, her whole wild, stormy nature was up in arms. Because she saw it hurt, she struck and struck deeply. “I tell you she’s stealing his heart away from me. _Mais hélas_, it doesn’t matter, she’s a paragon and I’m a dunce! She--”