"You forget that while he is but one person, there are many others here. You are inconsiderate of the claims of the majority," said Mrs. McSeeney. "However, you may carry away the satisfaction that you looked absolutely heavenly at the ball last night in that charming yellow gown. How like it is to Marion's, was that intentional?"
"That is the second time I have been asked that question, but I assure you it was quite an unexpected coincidence."
"A coincidence which created a fortunate contrast," replied Mrs. McSeeney, with increased suavity. "Fortunate for you, at least."
"What does this extreme agreeableness mean?" Florence wondered, and for a moment she was lost for a reply. "By the way," continued Mrs. McSeeney, "what has become of that charming Mr. Grahame whom Marion brought to my house last week? I don't see him here."
"He went back to New York to-day," answered Florence somewhat coolly, as she wished to end the conversation.
"What a pity!" said Mrs. McSeeney, speaking in a louder tone. "Mr. Grahame was such a delightful man, and dear Marion Sanderson must miss him so."
Instinctively feeling that some one else might have overheard this remark, Florence looked hurriedly behind her, and was horrified to see Roswell Sanderson and Harold Wainwright standing there. She saw the meaning of Mrs. McSeeney's action now; she had laid this trap to injure Marion in the eyes of her husband, and Roswell's expression of mingled anger and anxiety told her plainly that he had overheard. Frightened for Marion's happiness she turned to Mrs. McSeeney and said angrily: "You have no right to connect Marion's name with Mr. Grahame's in such a manner."
"Indeed!" Mrs. McSeeney replied with exasperating coolness. "I think that when a woman of Marion Sanderson's prominence is indiscreet in her actions, she must expect to cause comment. I happened to see Mr. Grahame kiss Mrs. Sanderson, under the musicians' gallery, at the ball last night. I think I am justified in any conclusions I may draw."
Florence heard a low exclamation behind her. For a moment countless thoughts rushed through her brain in jumbled confusion, then she seemed to understand it all. Mrs. McSeeney told the truth. No woman would dare make such an accusation falsely, and this explained Marion's strange talk of the afternoon. Poor Marion! was there no way to save her? With the suddenness of inspiration an idea came to her. She remembered seeing a play in which two women were mistaken for each other by the similarity of their gowns; she had also been with Duncan under the musicians' gallery, and she knew it was too dark to distinguish faces accurately there. She turned quickly toward Roswell Sanderson, and seizing his hand drew him forward. He was about to speak but she stopped him; then, facing Mrs. McSeeney, she said defiantly: "You have conceived a clever plan to ruin Mr. Sanderson's wife. Your motive, I think, is evident to all who know you, but, fortunately, your statement is untrue. 'Twas I who was with Mr. Grahame under the musicians' gallery."
Mrs. McSeeney drew back astonished at this sudden statement, but she quickly recovered from her surprise and said ironically: "Such a melodramatic sacrifice seems out of place in real life, but I suppose you are one of those heroic maidens who enjoy tarnishing their own reputation to clear a friend. I admit that the darkness and the similarity of your gowns may have rendered the confusion possible, but I assure you I was not mistaken about the facts. I suppose you are prepared to admit them also?"