“Poor old Jim!” This was Bella.  A pause.  Then—­“Let my hand alone!” Also Bella.

“It is my hand!”—­Jim;’s most fatuous tone.  “There is where you wore my ring.  There’s the mark still.”  Sounds of Jim kissing Bella’s ring finger.  “What did you do with it?  Throw it away?” More sounds.

Aunt Selina crossed the library swiftly, and again I followed.  Bella was sitting in a low chair by the fire, looking at the logs, in the most exquisite negligee of pink chiffon and ribbon.  Jim was on his knees, staring at her adoringly, and holding both her hands.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Bella was saying, looking as coy as she knew how—­which was considerable.  “I—­I still wear it, on a chain around my neck.”

On a chain around her neck!  Bella, who is decollete whenever it is allowable, and more than is proper!

That was the limit of Aunt Selina’s endurance.  Still holding me, she stepped through the doorway and into the firelight, a fearful figure.

Jim saw her first.  He went quite white and struggled to get up, smiling a sickly smile.  Bella, after her first surprise, was superbly indifferent.  She glanced at us, raised her eyebrows, and then looked at the clock.

“More victims of insomnia!” she said.  “Won’t you come in?  Jim, pull up a chair by the fire for your aunt.”

Aunt Selina opened her mouth twice, like a fish, before she could speak.  Then—­

“James, I demand that that woman leave the house!” she said hoarsely.

Bella leaned back and yawned.

“James, shall I go?” she asked amiably.

“Nonsense,” Jim said, pulling himself together as best he could.  “Look here, Aunt Selina, you know she can’t go out, and what’s more, I—­don’t want her to go.”

“You—­what?” Aunt Selina screeched, taking a step forward.  “You have the audacity to say such a thing to me!”

Bella leaned over and gave the fire log a punch.

“I was just saying that he shouldn’t say such things to me, either,” she remarked pleasantly.  “I’m afraid you’ll take cold, Miss Caruthers.  Wouldn’t you like a hot sherry flip?”

Aunt Selina gasped.  Then she sat down heavily on one of the carved teakwood chairs.

“He said he loved you; I heard him,” she said weakly.  “He—­he was going to put his arm around you!”

“Habit!” Jim put in, trying to smile.  “You see, Aunt Selina, it’s—­well, it’s a habit I got into some time ago, and I—­my arm does it without my thinking about it.”

“Habit!” Aunt Selina repeated, her voice thick with passion.  Then she turned to me.  “Go to your room at once!” she said in her most awful tone.  “Go to your room and leave this—­this shocking affair to me.”

But if she had reached her limit, so had I. If Jim chose to ruin himself, it was not my fault.  Any one with common sense would have known at least to close the door before he went down on his knees, no matter to whom.  So when Aunt Selina turned on me and pointed in the direction of the staircase, I did not move.