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That night I did so many exercises that at last I sank exhausted in a chair in front of my mirror and put my head down on my arms and cried the real tears you cry when nobody is looking. I felt terribly old and ugly and dowdy and—widowed. It couldn't have been jealousy, for I just love that girl. I want most awfully to hug her very slimness, and it was more what she might think of poor dumpy me than what any man in Hillsboro, or Paris, could possibly feel on the subject, that hurt so hard. But then, looking back on it, I am afraid that jealousy sheds feathers every night so you won't know him in the morning, for something made me sit up suddenly with a spark in my eyes and reach out to the desk for my pencil and cheque-book. It took me more than an hour to reckon it all up, but I went to bed a happier, though in prospects a poorer woman. "Then you know more than I do," retorted Sarby. "I told Mrs. Dallas that I loved Isabella and she said that nothing would give her greater pleasure than to see us married." "Yep, she's engaged to Jeffries," announced Griffin with great enjoyment. "Has Elinor heard? Let's go break the news.".

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"I think it is my fault," said Isabella, hastily. "I remarked that Dido was always agitated when you came to this house." "I don't particularly wish to learn your Voodoo secrets," answered Jen carelessly. "All I desire to know is why you manufactured that scent with which you saturated a certain handkerchief of your mistress." "No more of that. Dido. You know that I love Maurice; I wish to marry him. Why are you so bitter against him?" CHAPTER VIII. A CRY IN THE NIGHT..