“I think your feelings are very natural.  They are what I should expect of you.  You have always seemed to me the soul of honor when once you obtain your bearings,” she added, with a wan smile.

“How pale you are, Madge!” he said, anxiously.

“I am not feeling very well to-day, and then I am suffering from the reaction of this morning.  I never can get over my old timidity and dislike to do anything in public.  I can do what I will, but it often costs me dear.  I was led on unexpectedly this morning.  I only anticipated singing a ditty for the children when I first went to the piano at their request.”

“I saw that, Madge.  Any other woman with your power of song would have made it known long before this.”

“And, believe me, Graydon, I did not want to sing in rivalry with Miss Wildmere.  I’m sorry I did.”

“I saw that too,” he replied, laughing.  “Stella drew that little experience down upon herself.”

“I’m sorry now that I sang,” she said, in a low tone.  “I didn’t want to do anything to hurt the feelings of so good a friend as you are.”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings in the least.  Just the contrary.  You gave much pleasure, and made me all the more proud of you.  It will do Stella no harm to have her self-complacency jostled a little.  Slight wonder that her head is somewhat giddy from the immense amount of attention she has received.  I’m not perfect, Madge; why should I demand perfection?  It’s delightful to be talking in this way—­like old times.  I used to talk to you about Stella years ago.  If I have the substance I can forego the shadow, and I do feel that I can say to you all that I could to a sensible and loving sister.  Believe me, Madge, I can never get over my old feeling for you, and I’m just as proud of you as if your name was Madge Muir.  I think your brave effort and achievement at Santa Barbara simply magnificent.  You have long had the affection that I would give to a sister, and now that I understand you, I feel for you all the respect that I could give to any woman.”

“Those are kind, generous words, Graydon.  I knew that you misunderstood me, and I was only provoked at you, not angry.”

“You had good reason to be provoked and much more.  If you and Stella understood each other in the same way, and—­well—­if she were only out of that atmosphere in which she has been brought up, I could ask nothing more.”

“What atmosphere?”

“Wall Street atmosphere transferred to the domestic and social circle.  You have too much delicacy, Madge, to refer to what I know puzzles you, and I admit that I do not fully understand it all, though I know Stella’s motive clearly enough.  Her motive is worthy of all commendation, but not her method.  She is not so much to blame for this as her father, and perhaps her mother, who appears a weak, spiritless woman, a faint echo of her husband.  It is here that the infernal Wall Street atmosphere comes in that she has breathed all her life.  Does it not puzzle you, in view of my relations to her, that she should be out driving with Arnault?”