"She has behaved shamefully to Antony. I will not talk any more about her." "However, she is going to entertain quietly; and her own family _must_ support her. You may tell your wife I said so." "Did you have a pleasant summer, mother?" Then Mrs. Filmer began a long complaint of the weather, and the weary hours her husband spent in the libraries, and the exorbitant charges, and the dreadful laundry work, and finally she opened one of her trunks, and took out of it some presents for Yanna and the child. So the morning went rapidly away, and Harry stayed to lunch with his father and mother, and then went downtown and attended to some business for them; so that the day was all broken up and spoiled, and he resolved to go home and take Yanna her presents. When he entered the parlor of his own home, he was astonished to see Yanna sitting at a little Dutch table, drinking tea with a woman in the regulation dress of the Salvation Army--astonished to see that she had been weeping; and still more lost in amazement when the guest stood up and faced him, for it was undoubtedly Cora Mitchin. She looked with grave eyes straight at Harry, who had paused in the middle of the room, and said: "Mr. Filmer, I came here to-day to ask Mrs. Filmer's pardon. You may see that she has forgiven me." "Miss Young," said Adriana, rising, "it is my wish that you tell Mr. Filmer all that you have told me. He will be glad to hear it." And then she went quietly out of the room, leaving the two alone. For a moment Harry was angry. He did not like standing face to face with his transgression; and he was quite inclined to escape from the position in some way or other, when Cora said: "May I tell you what has happened?" "Is there any use now? If I can do anything, Cora----" "No! no! Mrs. Filmer asked me to tell you. May I?" Harry sat down, but not very graciously; and the young woman stood by the table, with her hand grasping the back of the chair from which Yanna had just risen. She was a very pretty young woman, and her peculiar dress was by no means unbecoming. If it had been, Harry perhaps might have been less willing to listen; though, as it was, he had a wandering idea that Cora was playing a trick--that she might have taken a wager she would enter his house and drink tea with his wife--that she might have wondered at him for not seeking her out, and contrived this plan to engage his attention. In fact, he did not at all believe in any confession Cora had made to his wife; and he was resentful of her presence under any guise on his hearthstone. So, though he sat down to listen, he did it ungraciously, and his voice was irritable as he said: "I do not understand your little game, Cora; and I wish you would explain it as quickly as possible." "Do you remember Mary Brady, one of the ballet girls?" "Yes."