appeared to lubricate her conscience; it ran more smoothly now, emitting
fewer creaks.

"You say that you know Mr. Quarrier?" she began thoughtfully.

"Not well."

"I--hope you will like him, Mr. Siward."

"I do not think he likes me, Miss Landis. He has reasons not to."

She looked up, suddenly remembering: "Oh--since that scrape? What has Mr.
Quarrier to do--" She did not finish the sentence. A troubled silence
followed; she was trying to remember the details--something she had paid
small attention to at the time--something so foreign to her, so distant
from her comprehension that it had not touched her closely enough for
her to remember exactly what this young man might have done to forfeit
the good-will of Howard Quarrier.

She looked at Siward; it was impossible that anything very bad could
come from such a man. And, pursuing her reasoning aloud: "It couldn't
have been very awful," she argued; "something foolish about an actress,
was it not? And that could not concern Mr. Quarrier."

"I thought you did know; I thought you--remembered--while you were
driving me over from the station--that I was dropped from my club."

She flushed up: "Oh!--but--what had Mr. Quarrier to do with that?"

"He is a governor of that club."