By some untoward psychological process, quite unperceived by herself, the full torrent of Miss Blythe's wrath was instantly turned upon the man at her side. "I think I must say good morning, Mr. Towle," she said coldly. "I am really very much occupied to-day. I am sure I thank you for thinking of me so kindly--" She stopped determinedly and held out her hand. And the Hon. Wipplinger Towle, feeling himself to be dismissed in all the harrowing length and breadth of the word, took his leave of her instantly, with a courteous lifting of his hat which afforded Jane a parting glimpse of his prematurely bald head. "It must be dreadful to be bald," reflected Jane, with vague contrition, as she walked away; "but I can't help it." The correlation of these two ideas being more intimate and profound than appears in a cursory reading of them. The door of Lady Agatha's morning room stood open as Jane attempted to slip past it like a guilty shadow. Gwendolen, still attired in her hat and jacket, evidently saw her and apprised her mother of the fact, for Lady Agatha's pursuing voice arrested the girl in full flight toward her own room. "You will, perhaps, be good enough to inform me, Jane, how you came to be on the street after I had locked you into your own room for the day," intoned Lady Agatha, in a terrible voice. "_Deceitful, ungrateful, vulgar_ girl, that you are!" "I saw you, sly-boots; so you needn't deny it," put in Gwendolen, with a spiteful laugh. "It was passing strange how our demure Jane chanced to have a proposal, was it not? Do you know, mamma, Ethel Brantwood told me this morning that _that man_ had been seen tagging Jane all over London. It is quite the common talk." "Oh!" cried Jane, wringing her hands. "What _shall_ I do?" "Do not attempt to hoodwink me longer, unhappy girl," pursued Lady Agatha. "Your deceit, ingratitude, and _vulgar intrigues_ are all laid bare. I have not decided what I shall do with you. It appears"--dramatically--"that locks and bars are no barriers to _you_. My commands you defy, my counsels you ignore, my affections you trample under foot!" "Stop, Aunt Agatha!" cried Jane. "I did climb out of the window after you had locked me in--I wish now that I had fallen on the conservatory roof and killed myself; you wouldn't have minded anything but the broken glass--but you _must_ believe that I never saw Mr. Towle on the street before. He _has_ followed me about; he told me so this morning. But he never spoke to me once, and I did not know it. I never have thought of seeing him." "How extremely ingenuous and naive!" put in Gwendolen, with an ugly titter; "quite after the pattern of a cheap variety actress, indeed! I wonder, mamma, that Mr. Towle took the pains to propose marriage to Jane in the dull, old-fashioned way. He might as well have eloped without ceremony."