My cup of anguish was full when I met Letty Bishop—married and wonderfully happy. Dear me! How she loved that husband of hers. I compared her affection for dear Reginald to mine for Arthur Ravener, and then stopped. Her husband returned her love with interest. There never was a better mated couple.
I met them at my mother's house one evening. Arthur was with me for the sake of appearances, I suppose. How he ever managed to tear himself away from HER I could not imagine. I did not ask him for any information on the subject.
"What a happy couple!" I said with a sigh. I could not help the remark. Arthur was beside me. I was sitting, like an antique, faded wallflower in the drawing-room, while the others talked and chatted and laughed and gossiped at the other end of the room. He followed my eyes and saw Reginald talking in a whisper to Letty, while a pink-faced maiden executed a morceau on the piano.
"They are very impolite to talk while Miss Lancaster is playing," he said coldly.
"They have so much to say," I suggested.
