Lady Tranmore turned in astonishment.  She had expected Mary’s assent to her original remark as a matter of course.  Mary’s old flirtation with Geoffrey Cliffe, and the long breach between them which had followed it, were things well known to her.  They had coincided, moreover, with her own dropping of the man whom for various reasons she had come to regard as unscrupulous and unsafe.

“Good!” she echoed—­“good?—­with that boasting, and that fanfaronnade.  Polly!”

But Miss Lyster held her ground.

“We must allow everybody their own ways of doing things, mustn’t we?  I am quite sure he has meant well—­all through.”

Lady Tranmore shrugged her shoulders.  “Lord Parham told me he had had the most grotesque letters from him!—­and meant henceforward to put them in the fire.”

“Very foolish of Lord Parham,” said Mary, promptly.  “I should have thought that a Prime Minister would welcome information—­from all sides.  And of course Mr. Cliffe thinks that the government has been very badly served.”

Lady Tranmore’s wonder broke out.  “You don’t mean—­that—­you hear from him?”

She turned and looked full at her companion.  Mary’s color was still raised, but otherwise she betrayed no embarrassment.

“Yes, dear Cousin Elizabeth.  I have heard from him regularly for the last six months.  I have often wished to tell you, but I was afraid you might misunderstand me, and—­my courage failed me!” The speaker, smiling, laid her hand on Lady Tranmore’s.  “The fact is, he wrote to me last autumn from Japan.  You remember that poor cousin of mine who died at Tokio?  Mr. Cliffe had seen something of him, and he very kindly wrote both to his mother and me afterwards.  Then—­”

“You didn’t forgive him!” cried Lady Tranmore.

Mary laughed.

“Was there anything to forgive?  We were both young and foolish.  Anyway, he interests me—­and his letters are splendid.”

“Did you ever tell William you were corresponding with him?”

“No, indeed!  But I want very much to make them understand each other better.  Why shouldn’t the government make use of him?  He doesn’t wish at all to be thrown into the arms of the other side.  But they treat him so badly—­”

“My dear Mary! are we governed by the proper people, or are we not?”

“It is no good ignoring the press,” said Mary, holding herself gracefully erect.  “And the Bishop quite agrees with me.”

Lady Tranmore sank back in her seat.

“You discussed it with the Bishop?” It was now some time since Mary had last brought the family Bishop—­her cousin, and Lady Tranmore’s—­to bear upon an argument between them.  But Elizabeth knew that his appearance in the conversation invariably meant a fait accompli of some sort.

“I read him some of Mr. Cliffe’s letters,” said Mary, modestly.  “He thought them most remarkable.”