Evereld was sitting by the fire in a cheerful-looking room into which the wintry sun shone brightly; flowers were on the table, Christmas cards daintily arranged were on the mantelpiece; there was a homelike air about the place which Myra at once noted, and she looked with a pang at the little garment at which the young wife was working when she entered. “My husband told me Mr. Macneillie was at the theatre so I came in to have a chat with you,” she said kissing her affectionately. “You are looking pale this morning, dear, this wandering life is getting too hard for you.” “Oh, I am very well,” said Evereld brightly, “and as to the travelling I shall not have much more of that for at the beginning of February I have promised to go and stay with Mrs. Hereford in London. They all say it is right, so I mustn’t grumble, but I do so hate leaving Ralph.” “He can come to you for the Sundays,” said Myra. “Where has he gone to this morning?” “He and Mr. Mowbray have hired bicycles and have gone over to Brookfield Castle. They will have a beautiful ride for it is so still and the roads will be nice and dry. Ivy wanted to go too, but she couldn’t manage to get a bicycle, they were all engaged.” “Well it sounds unkind,” said Myra. “But I am not sorry that she was forced to stay behind. Ivy is getting too careless of appearances.” “Do you really disapprove of bicycling for women?” asked Evereld. “One has hardly had time to get used to it, but it seems such capital exercise, and no one could look more graceful in cycling than Ivy does.” “Oh, I don’t mean that, dear,” said Myra colouring a little. “I really hardly know how to explain things to you, for you seem so young and confiding, and so ready to trust everyone. But you see Ivy rather runs after your husband. Of course she always was a born flirt, I don’t think she can help it. But people are beginning to notice it and to talk, they are indeed.” “I wonder any one can be so foolish as to think such things,” said Evereld with a little air of matronly dignity which became her very well. “Every one belonging to the company must surely understand that Ivy is so much with us because she is being actually persecuted by that provoking Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes.” “Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes is not so bad as people make out, he may be vain and conceited I quite admit, but he really is in love with Ivy and she is very foolish to run away from him on every possible occasion. It would be a capital marriage for her. Why, if the present heir were to die, Mr. Vane-Ffoulkes comes into the title, Ivy forgets that.” “She positively dislikes him,” said Evereld. “You surely wouldn’t wish her to marry such a man as that just for his position?” “No, but I think she might be a little more civil to him and at least give him a hearing. And quite apart from that I really think, dear, you are ill-advised in having her so much here.” Evereld’s clear blue eyes looked questioningly and in a puzzled fashion at her visitor.