To all of which Darcy listened in the stupefaction of despair. She was roused by Helen Barrett’s bear-hug of congratulations. “Do you know,” said Helen, “I haven’t really quite been able to believe it up to now. Oh, Darcy, I’m so glad for you!” With some faltered excuse for getting out of the room, the subject of this untimely felicitation escaped. Her brain seethed with horrid conjectures. Here was a furtherance of her phantom plans for which she was wholly unprepared. Doubtless Gloria had something in mind; but what could it be? When the day of inevitable reckoning should come, Darcy could see no adequate solution other than suicide or permanent disappearance. Meanwhile Gloria was putting her to the test of the severest judgment by asking her flat-mates: “Don’t you think Darcy looks well?” If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so likewise is the lack of it. Having become habituated to regarding their junior partner as aesthetically and femininely negligible, the other girls failed to appreciate the vital changes that were in progress. Miracles, set under our eyes, do not arrest us. Otherwise we should all stand about in stupefaction watching trees grow. “She looks healthy,” granted Maud indifferently. “And she’s a lot more cheerful and lively,” added Helen. “But she’ll always be—well, just Darcy.” Being a scrupulously courteous person Miss Gloria Greene refrained from the prophetic comparison which suggested itself to her annoyed mind as appropriate, and contented herself with the inward retort: “Oh, will she! Wait until I’ve dressed her. And then keep a watchful eye on your Holcomb Lees and your Paul Woods!” On her way out Darcy pounced upon her. “Gloria! What have you let me in for? How am I ever going to get out of it?” “Heaven knows!” returned the actress airily. “Don’t __you know?” “Haven’t an idea. Sufficient unto the day is—” “Unto all the rest of my days, I should think,” interrupted the dolorous Darcy. “Engagements have to come to a head sometime, somehow,” pointed out Gloria. “But you’ve made this so dreadfully definite!” “Darcy, I had to! I just couldn’t stand Maud’s insinuation that you weren’t really engaged—the cat! She as much as said that Montrose Veyze was just having a silly flirtation with you and that you took it _au grand sérieux_.” “What if she knew the awful truth?” “Don’t be afraid. She won’t.” “How are we going to help it?” “Break the engagement; there’s one way. Say the word, Darcy, my child,” said Gloria striking a sacrificial attitude, “and I’ll go across and gather in Monty Veyze, myself, for your sake.” “Isn’t there an obstacle on this side of the water?” suggested Darcy shyly, thinking of Jack Remsen. Gloria reddened a little. “Not that any one knows of,” she returned. “Anyway, if the engagement is broken, they’ll say he jilted me.” “Then jilt him.” “They’d never believe it.” “Probably not,” assented Gloria.