Dedham was sitting on the edge of one of the reception-room chairs, locking and unlocking his fingers until his hands were as red as those of a son of toil. He was nervous, happy, terrified, annoyed.

“That beastly porter to keep me waiting so long for my portmanteau!” he almost cried aloud. “What must she think of me?”

“You wicked boy!” said a voice of gentle reproach. “What made you so late? I was just about to send and inquire if anything had happened to you. But sit down. How tired you must be! Would you like a glass of sherry and a biscuit?”

“Nothing! Nothing! You know, it’s not my fault that I’m late. My portmanteau got mislaid and my travelling clothes were so dusty. And you really are glad to see me?”

“What a question! It makes me feel young again to see you.”

“Young again! You!”

“I am twenty-four, Teddy, and a widow,” and she shook her head sadly. “I feel fearfully old—like your mother. I have had so much care and responsibility in my life, and you are so careless and debonair.”

“You’ll make me cry in a minute,” said Teddy; “and I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. You seem to put a whole Adirondack between us.”

“I can’t help it. Perhaps I’ll get over it after a time. It’s so sad being mewed up six whole months!”

“Then marry me right off. That’s just the point. We’ll go and travel and have a jolly good time. That’ll brace you up and make you feel as young as you look.”

“I can’t, Teddy. I must wait a year in common decency. Think how people would talk.”

“Let ’em. They’ll soon find something else and forget us. Marry me next month.”

“Next month—well—”

“It would be rather fun to be the hero and heroine of a sensation, anyhow. That’s what everybody’s after. You’re just a nonentity until you’ve been black-guarded in the papers. Whose ring is that?”

“One of Edith’s. I put it on to remember something by.”

“Well, take it off and wear this instead. It’ll help your memory just as well.”

“What, a solitaire!”

“I knew you would prefer it. I know all your tastes by instinct.”

“You do, Teddy. Coloured stones are so tiresome.”

“By the way, I think your old admirer, Severance, must be about to put himself in silken fetters, as Boswell would say. I caught him buying an unusually fine sapphire in Tiffany’s yesterday. Said it was for his sister. H’m—h’m.”

“Ah! I wonder who it can be?”

“Don’t know. Hasn’t looked at a woman since you left. But I have a strong suspicion that it is some one here in Newport.”

“Here! I wonder if it can be Edith?”

“Miss Decker? Sure enough. Never seemed to pay her much attention, though. She’s not my style; too much like sixteen dozen other New York girls.”

He buttoned up his coat, braced himself against it, and gave his moustache a frantic twist.

“Mrs.—Jessica!” he ejaculated desperately, “you are engaged to me—won’t you—won’t you—”

She drew herself up and glanced down upon him from her higher chair with a look of sad disapproval.

“I did not think it of you, Teddy,” she said. “And it is one of the things of which I have never approved.”

“But why not?” asked Teddy, feebly.

“I thought you knew me better than to ask such a question.”

“I know you are an angel—oh, hang it! You do make me feel as if you were my mother.”

“Now, don’t be unreasonable, or I shall believe that you are a tyrant.”

“A tyrant? I? Horri—no, I wish I was. What a model of propriety you are! I never should have thought it—I mean—darling! you were always such a coquette, you know. Not that I ever thought so. You know I never did—oh, hang it all—but if I let you have your own way in this unreasonable—I mean this perfectly natural whim—you might at least promise to marry me in a month. And, indeed, I think that if you are an angel, I am a saint.”

“Well, on one condition.”

“Any! Any!”

“It must be an absolute secret until the wedding is over. I hate congratulations, and if we are going to have a sensation we might as well have a good concentrated one.”

“I agree with you, and I’ll never find fault with you again. You—”

Miss Decker almost ran into the room.

“Jessica!” she cried. “Oh, dear Mr. Dedham, how are you? Jessica, mother has one of her terrible attacks, and I must ask you to stay with her while I go for the doctor myself. I cannot trust servants.”

“Let me go! let me go!” cried Teddy. “I’ll bring him back in a quarter of an hour. Who shall—”

“Coleman. He lives—”

“I know. Au revoir!” And the girls were alone.

“There!” exclaimed Miss Decker, “we have got rid of him. Now for the others. You slip upstairs, and I’ll dispose of them one by one. You are taken suddenly ill. Teddy will not be back for an hour. Dr. Coleman has moved.”

A lamp burned in the sea-room, and the two girls were sitting in their evening gowns before a bright log fire. Miss Decker was in white this time—an elaborate French concoction of embroidered muslin which made her look like an expensive fashion plate. Jessica wore a low-cut black crÊpe, above which she rose like carved ivory and brass. The snakes to-night were held in place by diamond hair-pins that glittered like baleful eyes. In her lap sparkled four rings.

“What shall I do?” she exclaimed. “If my life depended upon it, I could not remember who gave me which.”

“Let us think. What sort of a stone would a politician be most likely to choose?”

Mrs. Pendleton laughed. “A good idea. If couleur de rose be synonymous with conceit, then I think the ruby must have come from Mr. Trent.”

“I am sure of it. And as your author is always in the dumps, I am certain he takes naturally to the sapphire.”

“But the emerald—”

“Is emblematic of your deluded Teddy. The solitaire therefore falls naturally to Mr. Severance. Well, now that you have got through the first interviews in safety, what are you going to do next?”

“Edith, I do not know. They are all so dreadfully in earnest that I believe I shall finally take to my heels in down-right terror. But no, I won’t. I’ll come out of it with the upper hand and save my reputation as an actress. I will keep it up for two or three days more, but after that it will be impossible. They are bound to meet here sooner or later. Thank Heaven, we are rid of them for to-night, at least!”

The manservant threw back the portiÈre.

“Mr. Trent!”

“Heavens!” cried Edith, under her breath; “I forgot to give orders that we were not receiv—how do you do, Mr. Trent?”

“And which is his ring?” Jessica made a frenzied dab at the jewels in her lap. She slipped the sapphire on her finger and hid the others under a cushion. Trent, who had been detained a moment by Miss Decker, advanced to her.

“It is very soon to come again,” he said, “but I simply had to call and inquire if you felt better. I am delighted to see that you apparently do.”

“I am better, thank you.” Her voice was weak. “It was good of you to come again.”

“Whose ring is that?”

“Why—a—to—sure—”

“Jessica!” cried Miss Decker, “have you gone off with my ring again? You are so absent-minded! I hunted for that ring high and low!”

“You should not be so good-natured, and my memory would turn over a new leaf. Here, take it.” She tossed the ring to Miss Decker and raised her eyes guiltily to Trent’s. “Shall I go up and get the other?”

“No. But I thought you promised never to take it off.”

“I forgot that water ruins stones.”

“Well, it is a consolation to know that water does not ruin a certain plain gold circlet.”

“Mr. Boswell!”

Jessica gasped and looked at the flames. A crisis had come. Would she be clever enough? Then the situation stimulated her. She held out her hand to Boswell.

“You have come to see me?” she cried delightedly. “Mr. Trent has just been telling us that you came down with him, and I hoped you would call soon.”

“Yes, to be sure—to be sure. You might have known I would call soon.” He bowed stiffly to Trent, and, seating himself close beside Jessica, murmured in her ear: “Cannot you get rid of that fellow? How did he find you out so soon?”

“Why, he came to see Edith, of course. Do you not remember how devoted he always was to her?”

“I do not—”

“May I ask what you are whispering about, Mr. Boswell?” demanded Trent, breaking from Miss Decker. “Is he confiding to you the astounding success of his last novel, Mrs. Pendleton? Or was it a history of the United States? I really forget.”

“Not the last, certainly. I leave it to you to make history—an abridged edition. My ambition is a more humble one.”

“Oh, you will both need biographers,” said Mrs. Pendleton, who was beginning to enjoy herself. “I will give you an idea. Join the Theosophists. Arrange for reincarnation. Come back in the next generation and write your own biographies. Then your friends and families cannot complain you have not had justice done you.”

“Ha! ha!” said Trent.

“You are as cruel as ever,” said Boswell, with a sigh. “Where is my ring?” he whispered.

“It was so large that I could not keep it on. I must have a guard made.”

“Dear little fingers—”

“You may never have been taught when you were a small boy, Mr. Boswell,” interrupted Trent, “that it is rude to whisper in company. Therefore, to save your manners in Mrs. Pendleton’s eyes, I will do you the kindness to prevent further lapse.” And he seated himself on the other side of Jessica and glared defiantly at Boswell.

“Mr. Severance and Mr. Dedham!”

Severance entered hurriedly. “I am so glad to hear—ah, Boswell! Trent!”

“How odd that you should all find your way here the very first evening of your arrival!” And Jessica held out her hand with a placid smile. Miss Decker was more nervous, but five seasons were behind her. “Ah!” continued Mrs. Pendleton, “and Mr. Dedham, too! This is a most charming reunion!”

“Charming beyond expression!” said Severance.

Trent and Boswell being obliged to rise when Miss Decker went forward to meet the newcomers, Severance took the former’s chair, Dedham that of the future statesman.

“You are better?” whispered Severance. “I have been anxious.”

“Oh, I have been worried to death!” murmured Teddy in her other ear. “That wretched doctor had not only moved but gone out of town; and when I came back at last and found—”

“Mr. Severance,” exclaimed Trent, “you have my chair.”

“Is this your chair? You have good taste. A remarkably comfortable chair.”

“You would oblige me—”

“By keeping it? Certainly. You were ever generous, but that I believe is a characteristic of genius.”

“Mrs. Pendleton,” said Boswell, plaintively, “as Mr. Dedham has taken my chair, I will take this stool at your feet.”

Trent was obliged to lean his elbow on the mantelpiece, for want of a better view of Mrs. Pendleton, and Miss Decker sat on the other side of Dedham.

“How are you, Teddy?” she said.

“Young and happy. You must let me congratulate you.”

“For what?”

“I see you wear Severance’s ring. Ah, Sev, did the ring suit your sister?”

“To a T. Said it was her favourite stone.” He stopped abruptly. “What the deuce—” below his breath; and Jessica whispered hurriedly:—

“Edith was looking at it when Mr. Trent came in, and forgot to return it.”

“Ah! Boswell, I am sure you are sitting on Mrs. Pendleton’s foot. By the way, how is your aunt?”

“Dead—better.”

“I wonder you could tear yourself away so soon,” said Trent, viciously. “You’d better be careful. She might make a new will.”

“Don’t worry. I spent the happiest fifteen minutes of my life with her this afternoon. She promised me all.” He turned to Severance. “You have been breaking hearts on the beach, I suppose.”

“Which is better, at all events, than breaking one’s head against a stone wall.”

“Politics brought you here, I suppose, Mr. Trent,” interrupted Miss Decker. “I hear you made a stirring speech the other night.”

“I did. It was on the question of Radicalism in the Press versus Civil Service Reform. Something must be done to revolutionise this hotbed of iniquity, American politics. Such principles need courage, but when the hour comes the man must not be wanting—”

“That was all in the paper next morning,” drawled Boswell. “Mrs. Pendleton, did you receive the copy of my new book I sent a fortnight ago? Unlike many of my others, I had no difficulty in disposing of it. It was lighter, brighter, less philosophy, less—brains. The critics understood it, therefore they were kind. They even said—”

“Don’t quote the critics, for Heaven’s sake,” said Severance. “It is enough to have read them.”

“Oh, Mrs. Pendleton,” exclaimed Teddy, “if you could have been at the yacht race! Such excitement, such—”

“To change the subject,” said Trent, with determination in his eye, “Mrs. Pendleton, did you receive all the marked papers I sent you containing my speeches, especially the one on Jesuitism in Politics?”

“Don’t bother Mrs. Pendleton with politics!” exclaimed Boswell, whose own egotism was kicking against its bars. “You did not think my book too long, did you? One purblind critic said—”

“Good night, Mrs. Pendleton,” said Severance, rising abruptly. “Good evening,” and he bowed to Miss Decker and to the men. Jessica rose suddenly and went with him to the door.

“I am going to walk on the cliffs—‘Forty Steps’—at eleven to-morrow,” she said, as she gave him her hand. “This may be unconventional, but I choose to do it.”

He bowed over her hand. “Mrs. Pendleton will only have set one more fashion,” he said. “I shall be there.”

As he left the room by one door, Jessica crossed the room and opened another.

“Good night,” she said to the astounded company, and withdrew.