"Father is married—and has a daughter. We're in another class, and we're a bit—acclimated now."
"And that daughter," said Stephanie heartily, "has made good—you belong!"
"Mrs. Lorraine," began Marcia presently, "I don't want to seem impertinent, but did you really intend me to infer, from what you said as we came out of Partridge's, that you did not know Porshinger or Murchison?"
"Yes indeed," Stephanie replied. "I not only don't know them, but I have no recollection even of having seen them prior to to-day. Why do you ask?"
"I will tell you," said Marcia—"and you may make out of it what you can. Last evening I was up at the Club-house until rather late, and four or five of us were sitting in a sheltered place on the North piazza. While we were there, Porshinger and Murchison came out and sat down just around the corner. After a short while all of our party went in except Mr. Burgoyne and myself—and he was called, a moment after, to the telephone. Left alone I could not but hear Porshinger's and Murchison's talk. We had been making a good deal of noise, and they evidently thought from the silence that we all had gone in. But however that is, I heard Murchison say:
"'Is there anything new in the Lorraine matter?'
"'Not much,' said Porshinger. 'The thing is coming along though, never fear. Pendleton, the snob, is not invulnerable. I've found a way to reach him, and it's only a matter of a little time till he will be having troubles of his own—and Mrs. Lorraine also.'
"'Better leave well enough alone,' Murchison cautioned.
"'That may be your way—it's not mine!' retorted the other. 'They started the fight, now I'm going to accommodate them. They will think merry hell has broke loose before I'm through with them.'
"Then Mr. Burgoyne returned and I heard no more. Can you understand it?"