together," she went on. "You can't tell, and you must give me time. Now that you know, it's all right; but you had to know. Doesn't it make us better friends?" asked Mrs. Ryves, with a tired smile which had the effect of putting the whole story further and further away. The next moment, however, she added quickly, as if with the sense that it couldn't be far enough: "You don't know, you can't judge, you must let it settle. Think of it, think of it; oh you will, and leave it so. I must have time myself, oh I must! Yes, you must believe me."
She turned away from him, and he remained looking at her a moment. "Ah, how I shall work for you!" he exclaimed.
"You must work for yourself; I'll help you." Her eyes had met his eyes again, and she added, hesitating, thinking: "You had better know, perhaps, who he was."
Baron shook his head, smiling confidently. "I don't care a straw."
"I do—a little. He was a great man."
"There must indeed have been some good in him."
"He was a high celebrity. You've often heard of him."
Baron wondered an instant. "I've no doubt you're a princess!" he said with a laugh. She made him nervous.
"I'm not ashamed of him. He was Sir Dominick Ferrand."
Baron saw in her face, in a few seconds, that she
