Rosamund looked at Nina, the tears still rimming her lids. "I miss her frightfully," she said. "If somebody would only tell me where she is--I--I know it could do no harm for me to see her. I _can_ be as gentle and loyal as anybody--when I really care for a person. . . . Do _you_ know where she might be, Nina?" "I? No, I do not. I'd tell you if I did, Rosamund." "_Don't_ you know?" "Why, no," said Nina, surprised at her persistence. "Because," continued Rosamund, "your brother does." Nina straightened up, flushed and astonished. "Why do you say that?" she asked. "Because he does know. He sent her to Clifton. The maid who accompanied her is in my service now. It's a low way of finding out things, but we all do it." "He--sent Alixe to--to Clifton!" repeated Nina incredulously. "Your maid told you that?" Rosamund finished the contents of her slim glass and rose. "Yes; and it was a brave and generous and loyal thing for him to do. I supposed you knew it. Jack has been too beastly to her; she was on the verge of breaking down when I saw her on the _Niobrara_, and she told me then that her husband had practically repudiated her. . . . Then she suddenly disappeared; and her maid, later, came to me seeking a place. That's how I knew, and that's all I know. And I care for Alixe; and I honour your brother for what he did." She stood with pretty golden head bent, absently arranging the sables around her neck and shoulders. "I have been very horrid to Captain Selwyn," she said quietly. "Tell him I am sorry; that he has my respect. . . . And--if he cares to tell me where Alixe is I shall be grateful and do no harm." She turned toward the door, stopped short, came back, and made her adieux, then started again toward the door, not noticing Lansing. "With your permission," said Boots at her shoulder in a very low voice. She looked up, surprised, her eyes still wet. Then comprehending the compliment of his attendance, acknowledged it with a faint smile. "Good-night," he said to Nina. Then he took Rosamund down to her brougham with a silent formality that touched her present sentimental mood. She leaned from her carriage-window, looking at him where he stood, hat in hand, in the thickly falling snow. "Please--without ceremony, Mr. Lansing." And, as he covered himself, "May I not drop you at your destination?" "Thank you"--in refusal. "I thank you for being nice to me. . . . Please believe there is often less malice than perversity in me. I--I have a heart, Mr. Lansing--such as it is. And often those I torment most I care for most. It was so with Alixe. Good-bye." Boots's salute was admirably formal; then he went on through the thickening snow, swung vigorously across the Avenue to the Park-wall, and, turning south, continued on parallel to it under the naked trees.