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I don't care what any one thinks if I were in your place I'd jolly well sling Banks off the premises I tell you I would " he got to his feet, his vehemence was increasing, as if he would shout down Brenda's silent disdain "I'd confoundedly well kick him out of the county..." He looked almost equal to the task as he stood there roaring like a young bull-calf; but although he could have given his rival a good three stone in weight there was, I fancy, a difference in the quality of their muscles that might have left the final advantage with Banks in a rough-and-tumble engagement.

I saw them the other day and asked if any one had seen you since the night of the show. They said no, but didn't seem to think anything about it." "It's not really long since then. How are they all?" "All right, and busy as bees. They've no time to come and see me, or anybody else, I guess. Brenda's coming back to be married in May, and they're flying round getting her things ready.

The day after Brenda's wedding I was at the Fontanas, she was a Miss Andrews, you know, of Indianapolis, and there was Charlie, too, and there was likewise Madame Sartorio, who is Colonel Fontana's niece by his first marriage. We were talking in a little group when something, I forget what, was said about you, Aurora.

"Oh! well, they're bound to guess something," he said, "but I'm hoping we'll be able to put that right, now." "Who are we going to see?" I asked. He did not reply at once, and then snapped out, "Anne Banks; friend er Brenda's." My foolishly whimsical imagination translated that queer medley of sounds into the thought of a stable-pump.

The heart of Leslie, nevertheless, as she bustled about, seeing to it that every one was provided with refreshment, confessed a point of bitterness. In a way, it was envy of Brenda. Not of her happiness, or her husband, of course. But she did wish the man lived and would present himself who could inspire her with such feelings as Brenda's.

The Countesses Brenda and San Martino had "bridge-mania" very hard, and they used to go to Brenda's room in the evening to play. After playing bridge a week, Caesar found that his money was insensibly melting away. "Look here," he said to Laura. "What is it?" "You have got to teach me bridge."

And the one safe thing they see to do, when Brenda's face, combined with her entire reserve toward them, has begun to torment them seriously, is to send her away where, if the truth be that she mysteriously is 'interested in' an Italian, the change of scene may help to put him out of her head." "So that's why they're sending her home!"

She was far too wise in her generation not to have agreed with Brenda's decision in certain former cases. The idea of her daughter's beauty and her father's millions being bartered for mere rank and social power, however splendid, was utterly repugnant to her.

In a few days the Countess Brenda and Caesar's friendship passed beyond the bonds of friendship; but in the course of time it cooled off again. One evening, when the Countess Brenda's daughter had left Rome to go with her father to a villa they owned in the North, the Countess and Caesar had a long conversation in the salon.

She checked the question that my change of expression must have foreshadowed by a frown which warned me that she could not give any reason for her suspicion in that company. "Later on," she whispered, and got up from her seat in the window, leaving me to puzzle over the still uncertain mystery of Brenda's disappearance. Miss Bailey had not, apparently, overheard the confidence.