"Leave it so." Yes, it was a distinct inspiration, which she couldn't have explained, but which had come, prompted by something she had caught--the extent of the recognition expressed--in Lady Wantridge's face.

It had come absolutely of a sudden, straight out of the opposition of the two figures before her--quite as if a concussion had struck a light.

The light was helped by her quickened sense that her friend's silence on the incident of the day before showed some sort of consciousness.

She looked surprised.

"Do you know my brother ?" "DO I know you ?" Lady Wantridge asked of him.
"No, Lady Wantridge," Scott pleasantly confessed, "not one little mite!" "Well then if you MUST go--" and Mamie offered her a hand.