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"What do you mean?" cried Jen, his curiosity getting the better of his anger. "Is it possible that you believe in the innocence of this man?" The next afternoon when Elinor, completely restored after a day's rest, took out her drawing-board and began to work, Patricia brought out her own study for a final criticism before laboriously lugging it up to the Academy. Thus adjured, and feeling that he could not do without her assistance, Jen related all that he had heard from Arkel, and also his own personal experience with regard to the finding of the handkerchief marked "M. D." Isabella heard him to the end in silence, her large and shining eyes fixed upon his face..

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"Don't give way to despair so soon—lots of these are maids and chaperones. Naskowski told me when we squeezed past him at the door that the rooms upstairs weren't half filled yet," said Patricia, hopefully. "Here, Miss Jinny, squeeze in before me—there's a chance to get inside if we form a flying wedge." "By Dido, no doubt." "But I'll spoil her designs in that quarter," muttered Maurice, as his thoughts led him to this conclusion. "Isabella shall not be dragged down to the level of her mother. I shall marry her, and so destroy the influence of that vile negress." Patricia studied her with eager interest. The bride of half a year was still a bride to her, and the transformation of the limp, bedraggled art student into this languid, elegant young lady was an affair that had its beginnings at Greycroft, for it was under that hospitable roof that Mr. Bingham had first seen Miss Auborn. In the merry Babel of the studio party Mrs. Bingham held her own with a calm assurance that Miss Auborn had not possessed, and when Mr. Bingham, pink and smiling as ever and just a bit more bald, joined them, the air of mild authority with which she welcomed that gentleman impressed Patricia even more strongly..