"Yes, I am; indeed, I am. You don't know."
"Then tell me, and let me be your friend and adviser."
"But you can't advise," objected Claire, "because you don't know the—the other one."
"Well, I do know you."
"There it is!" burst forth the champion of the absent. "You know me, but you don't know what a worthless, unattractive little imp I am compared to her. You don't know her, but you shall! And when you do, poor me will have to take a seat lower down in the tabernacle of your affections."
"I wonder if this 'other' would so readily resign her lover to you?" she said.
"Would she!" flashed Claire. "Would she not? Has she not? Ah, if you knew her, you would never say that!" Then suddenly capturing the other hand of the lady, she said, in quieter but very grave tones: "Can you listen to a long story, Mrs. Ralston; rather to several stories combined in one? I am going to tell you what I have so much wanted you to know—the story of Madeline Payne."
Mrs. Ralston expressed her more than willingness to hear all that Claire had to tell, and the girl settled down comfortably on the ottoman at the feet of her friend, and began at the beginning. It was indeed a long story, for Claire omitted nothing. As she told how Madeline had exposed to her the baseness of Percy, Mrs. Ralston started up, her face pale as death, and then sank back in her chair.
"Percy!" she cried. "What—what is his other name?"
Claire stared at her in amazement. "What is it, Mrs. Ralston—you are ill?"