"Meddled how?"

"Oh, I told her to do it. We had talks until daylight. . She may marry
him--I don't know--but if you think any live woman could he contented with
a muff like that!"

"That's immoral."

"Kemp, I'm not. She'd be mad not to marry him; but I don't know what I'd
do to a man like that, if I were his wife. And you know what a terrific
capacity for mischief there is in Sylvia. Some day she's going to love
somebody. And it isn't likely to be Howard. And, oh, Kemp! I do grow so
tired of that sort of thing. Do you suppose anybody will ever make
decency a fashion?"

"You're doing your best," said Ferrall, laughing at his wife's pretty,
boyish face turned back toward him over her shoulder; "you're presenting
your cousin and his millions to a girl who can dress the part--"

"Don't, Kemp! I don't know why I meddled! . I wish I hadn't--"

"I do. You can't let Howard alone! You're perfectly possessed to plague
him when he's with you, and now you've arranged for another woman to
keep it up for the rest of his lifetime. What does Sylvia want with a
man who possesses the instincts and intellect of a coachman? She is
asked everywhere, she has her own money. Why not let her alone? Or is it
too late?"

"You mean let her make a fool of herself with Stephen Siward? That is