“And they are both dears,” she said, lovingly, “and have always been so good to me.”

Mrs. McBride was a shrewd woman, full of American quickness, lightning deduction, and a phenomenal insight into character.  Theodora seemed to her to be too tender a flower for this world of east wind.  She felt sure she only thought good of every one, and how could one get on in life if one took that view habitually!  The appallingly hard knocks fate would give one if one was so trusting!  But as the drive went on that gentle something that seemed to emanate from Theodora, the something of pure sweetness and light, affected her, too, as it affected other people.  She felt she was looking into a deep pool of crystal water, so deep that she could see no bottom or fathom the distance of it, but which reflected in brilliant blue God’s sky and the sun.

“And she is by no means stupid,” the widow summed up to herself.  “Her mind is as bright as an American’s!  And she is just too pretty and sweet to be eaten up by these wolves of men she will meet in England, with that unromantic, unattractive husband along.  I must do what I can for her.”

By the time she had dropped Theodora at her hotel the situation was quite clear.  Of course the girl had been sacrificed to Josiah Brown; she was sound asleep in the great forces of life; she was bound to be hideously unhappy, and it was all an abominable shame, and ought to have been prevented.

But Mrs. McBride never cried over spilled milk.

“If I decide to marry her father,” she thought, as she drove off, “I shall keep my eye on her, and meanwhile I can make her life smile a little perhaps!”

IV

Theodora did not wonder why she felt in no exalted state of spirits as she dressed for dinner.  She seldom thought of herself at all, or what her emotions were, but the fact remained there was none of the excitement there had been over the prospect of breakfast.  Her husband, on the contrary, seemed quite fussy.

“A devilish fine woman,” he had described Mrs. McBride.  “Acts like a tonic upon me; does me more good than a pint of champagne!”

“Is she not delightful?” agreed Theodora; “so very kind and gay.  I am sure the dinner will do you good, Josiah, and perhaps we might give one in return.  What do you say?”

Josiah said, “Certainly!” He could give a meal with the best of them!  They would consult that father of hers, who knew Paris so well, and ask him to help them to arrange a regular “slap-up treat.”

And so they arrived at Armenonville.  It was a divine night, quite warm, and a soft three-quarter moon.

Mrs. McBride had everything arranged to perfection.  Their table was just where it should be, the menu was all that heart of gourmet could desire, and the company sparkling.

Theodora found herself seated beside Mr. Harryman Hoggenwater and an elderly Austrian, and before the hors d’oeuvres were cleared away both gentlemen had decided to make love to her.