had her blood been trained to ways of dignity, and too long had she
herself been drilled in composure and self-esteem and in a perfect
confidence in the thing that she was, for an invasion of newspaper
creatures to disturb her for longer than a few moments.

She was moving with stately tread toward the dining-room when Matilda
came hurrying up from the nether regions of the house. "Did you know,
ma'am," Matilda fluttered eagerly, "that Mr. Jack is home?"

"My son back!" There was vast relief in Mrs. De Peyster's voice. "When
did he come?"

"A few minutes ago."

"Did--did he say anything?"

"I haven't seen him, ma'am. He came in the back way, through the
stable. William told me about it."

Mrs. De Peyster's voice became composed, severe. "I shall see what he
has to say for himself." Majestically, somewhat ominously, she turned
and began to mount the stairs, followed by Olivetta and Matilda. But
as she passed the library's closed door, she heard Miss Gardner's
voice and a second voice--and the second voice was the voice of a man.

Startled, she paused. She caught a few fragments of phrases.
Indignation surged up within her. Resolutely she stepped to the door;
but by instinct she was no eavesdropper, and she would not come upon
people in compromising attitudes without giving them fair warning. So
she knocked, waited a moment--then opened the door and entered.