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he’s thoroughly enjoying himself and sparing no thought for you. No doubt he’s thinking and behaving in a similar manner—making himself thoroughly miserable. Of course, it may be raining where he is,” she added hopefully.

Grace smiled ruefully into the wrinkled face of Miss Whipple.

“You would be a great comfort to me if things were as you suppose them to be,” she said. “As it is, you make me want to cry.”

Miss Whipple, the compleat angler of domestic secrets, was gratified by the progress made in the short time of her acquaintance with Mrs. Harley. She felt justified in using the gaff to land the inside story of this affair.

“You are in love?”

Grace nodded.

“With your husband?”

Grace nodded and blushed.

Miss Whipple turned to look at the child, who was too busy with her doll to care for the foolish talk of her elders.

“And you've been married about—six years,” judged the old lady.

“Ten,” corrected Grace quietly.

“Ten!” ..

Miss Whipple looked from the child to her mother with frank incredulity.

“Ten!” she repeated. “I have heard of such a thing, but I have hesitated to believe it. Ten years, and still in love! Dear me! Why, I had forgotten the man who broke my young heart within two years.”

“Had you married him it would have been different, perhaps,” hazarded Grace, smiling her sympathy.

“It most certainly would have been!” agreed the old lady, with decision. “I’d have killed the brute! Distance lends no enchantment to some views, my dear; it just gives them the correct perspective without atmospherics. Perhaps you’ll find that out.”