"There is no one here." Gerald looked at the curtains dividing one room from the other. "I suppose Mrs. Berch is not again lying down with a headache." "No. She is out shopping, and will be in soon. And you needn't look so cross. Neither mother nor I told Major Rebb about your weird love affair. Mother overheard, as she said, but held her tongue." "Madge----" "Don't, I tell you. Major Rebb may come in at any moment, and I am also expecting Signor Venosta to afternoon tea. What would either of them say, if they heard you address me so familiarly." Gerald shrugged his shoulders, and did not argue the point. "As you please, Mrs. Crosbie. I was merely taking the privilege of our age-long acquaintanceship." "Why not friendship?" she inquired, closing her eyes. "Friendship, then. When are you to be married?" "I can't say! Michael--that is Major Rebb, you know--has not settled anything yet. He's very much upset, poor man, over this crazy girl." "I don't believe that the girl is crazy!" said Gerald decisively. "So you said before! Major Rebb told me of his interview with you at that Denleigh inn, and how absurd you were. Now I suppose you will admit that you have had a lucky escape?" "I admit nothing of the sort!" said Haskins bluntly: then added, in a diplomatic manner: "Did I know where that poor girl was I would look her up and marry her to-morrow." "I don't think that lunatic marriages are legal," yawned Mrs. Crosbie. "In spite of what you say, the girl must be guilty. The jury brought in a verdict of wilful murder, and she should be hanged. As it is, owing to her insanity, I presume she will be shut up in an asylum." "Then the Major will be pleased, I expect," said Gerald grimly. "No; he will not. He is very sorry about the affair. It has brought his name before the public in a most unpleasant manner. Luckily, everyone knows how well he behaved in looking after the girl. He got nothing for doing it." Haskins started, and wondered if it would be wise to reveal the real terms which existed between Mavis and her guardian. If Mrs. Crosbie did not know how Rebb earned his income--if it could be called earning--he was certainly marrying her under false pretenses. For the moment Gerald was inclined to blurt out the truth: but, remembering how Mrs. Crosbie had taken his last confidence, he resolved to hold his tongue about the money question, and to let the widow and her admirer adjust their own private affairs. Meanwhile the widow had gone to the tea-table, which had just been set, and was talking, while she poured out the tea. "I hope that you have got over your infatuation for that girl, Gerald. You will never see her again. I expect she is dead; fell into a pit, or a river, or something, when she ran away after committing murder. Poor thing! it is a lucky business for her that she _is_ dead."