‘Yes.  But Gideon didn’t write it, you know.  It was some one else.’

’Oh, well, it was in his paper, anyhow.  And he thought it....  And, anyhow, what are books, to hurt people’s feelings about?’

(A laudable sentiment, and one which should be illuminated as a text on the writing table of every reviewer.)

‘Oh, of course I know he’s a friend of yours,’ she added.  ’That’s really why I came to you....  But we none of us like him at home.  And Oliver couldn’t stick him.  And he begged Jane not to have anything more to do with him, but she would.  She wrote in his paper, and she was always seeing him.  And Oliver got more and more disgusted about it, and I couldn’t bear to see him unhappy.’

‘No?’ I questioned.

She paused, checked by the interruption.  Then, after a moment, she said, ’I suppose you mean I was glad really, because it came between them....  Well, I don’t know....  Perhaps I was, then....  Well, wouldn’t any one be?’

‘Most people,’ I agreed.  ‘Yes?’

She went on a little less fluently, of which I was glad.  Fluency and accuracy are a bad pair.  I would rather people stumbled and stammered out their stories than poured them.

’And I think he thought—­Oliver thought—­he began to suspect—­that Mr. Gideon was—­you know—­in love with Jane.  And I thought so too.  And he thought Jane was careless about not discouraging him, and seeing so much of him and all.  But I thought she was worse than that, and encouraged him, and didn’t care....  Jane was always dreadfully selfish, you know....’

‘And ... that evening?’ I prompted her, as she paused.

‘Well, that evening,’ she shuddered a little, and went on quickly.  ’I’d been dining with a friend, and I was to sleep at Jane’s.  I got there soon after ten, and no one was in, so I went to my room to take my things off.  Then I heard Jane come in, with Mr. Gideon.  They went upstairs to the drawing-room, and I heard them talking there.  My door was a little open, and I heard what they said.  And he said ...’

‘Perhaps,’ I suggested, ’you’d better not tell me what they said, since they thought they were alone.  What do you think?’

’Oh, very well.  There’s no harm.  I thought I’d better tell you everything.  But as you like.’  She was a little disappointed, but picked herself up and continued.

’Well, then I heard Oliver coming upstairs, and he stopped at the drawing-room door for a moment before they saw him, I think, because he didn’t speak quite at once.  Then he said, “Good evening,” and they said, “Hallo,” and they all began to be nasty—­in their voices, you know.  He said he’d obviously come home before he was expected, and then Jane went upstairs, pretending nothing was the matter—­Jane never bothers about anything—­and I heard Mr. Gideon come up to Oliver and ask him what he meant by that.  And they talked just outside my door,