THE first thing that happened to me after parting with him was to find myself again engaged with Mrs. Brissenden, still full of the quick conviction with which I had left her. “It is she—quite unmistakably, you know. I don't see how I can have been so stupid as not to make it out. I haven't your cleverness, of course, till my nose is rubbed into a thing. But when it is——!” She celebrated her humility in a laugh that was proud. “The two are off together.”

“Off where?”

“I don't know where, but I saw them a few minutes ago most distinctly ‘slope They’ve gone for a quiet, unwatched hour, poor dears, out into the park or the gardens. When one knows it, it's all there. But what's that vulgar song?—‘You’ve got to know it first!’ It strikes me, if you don't mind my telling you so, that the way you get hold of things is positively uncanny. I mean as regards what first marked her for you.”

“But, my dear lady,” I protested, “nothing at all first marked her for me. She isn't marked for me, first or last. It was only you who so jumped at her.”

My interlocutress stared, and I had at this moment, I remember, an almost intolerable sense of her fatuity and cruelty. They were all unconscious, but they were, at that stage, none the less irritating. Her fine bosom heaved, her blue eyes expanded with her successful, her simplified egotism. I couldn’t, in short, I found, bear her being so keen about Mrs. Server while she was so stupid about poor Briss. She seemed to recall to me nobly the fact that she hadn't a lover. No, she was only eating poor Briss up inch by inch, but she hadn't a lover. “I don’t,” I insisted, “see in Mrs. Server any of the right signs.”

She looked almost indignant. “Even after your telling me that you see in Lady John only the wrong ones?”

“Ah, but there are other women here than Mrs. Server and Lady John.”

“Certainly. But didn't we, a moment ago, think of them all and dismiss them? If Lady John's out of the question, how can Mrs. Server possibly not be in it? We want a fool——”