"Perhaps I did that much. But she made a success by her genius." "I hope she is grateful," murmured Vane, with a malicious smile. Brendon turned on him sharply. "I don't know what you mean by gratitude," he said deliberately. "Well," drawled the little dandy, "she is pretty and----" "She is not at all pretty, Mr. Vane, and were she as lovely as Cleopatra it would not matter to me. My connection with her ceased when she made her success." George quite forgot the presence of Mrs. Ward and spoke vehemently. "Can't you understand that a man may do a kind action without being biased by the beauty of a woman?" "Some men can," said Mrs. Ward, politely, "and I am sure you are one, Mr. Brendon. But suppose the woman----" "I don't suppose anything, Mrs. Ward. I know. Senora Velez was poor. I helped her to attain to the position she now holds because I endeavor to follow the preaching of Christ, and she is to me a grateful friend. There is no more and no less to be said," and, a trifle ruffled, George turned on his heel to join Dorothy. "Well, I'm sure," murmured Mrs. Ward, "and in my own house, too." Vane sniggered. "There must be something in it," he said. "And the profane language he used. Of course I don't believe a word he says." "Neither do I. She's too pretty." So these two scandal-mongers talked on, and George had only made matters worse by his explanation. However, he believed that he had nipped the scandal in the bud, and strolled into the next room with Dorothy to quiet his mind. Behind them they left Derrington talking to Train and rather enjoying himself. The room in which they found themselves was a pretty little apartment hung with amber silk, and illuminated with lights in yellow shades. The furniture was also yellow, and the carpet of a primrose hue. Mrs. Ward only introduced her most intimate friends into this boudoir, as it was her own special sanctum; and if its walls could have spoken they could have supplied all the existing society papers with gossip enough to last a century. "Do you think Lord Derrington knows who you are?" asked Dorothy as they seated themselves on a kind of divan. "I am not sure," replied George, who did not want to tell her what he knew, lest he should have to introduce the name of Lola Velez. "I have an idea that he does." Dorothy shook her head. "I don't think so. If he knows you he must be aware that you know him, and about the relationship, and would not speak so freely. I think he is taken with you, George." "Well, he has been putting me through my paces. I only hope that our chance meeting of to-night may bear fruit. What is Train doing here? Your mother only had him in her house once before, and she does not like him." "I can't make out why she asked him," said Dorothy; "he is a dull young man, though harmless enough. But my mother made a point of asking him to dinner."