“I never read the newspapers,” she said, reprovingly. “They’re always full of lies, and after the way they roasted me over my breach–” She coughed.

For a moment Leslie had a wild idea that the reference was an indelicate one, and then the truth came to her.

“Did you ever have a breach of promise action?” she asked, in astonishment.

Mary was very red, and her embarrassment was painful to witness.

“I did have a little trouble with a young gentleman I went to business with,” she admitted. “I was a mere girl at the time, young and silly as it were, and I must say that I felt that I had to stand up for my rights. A lot of people think it was unladylike, but I say that a girl who is an orphan without parents must look after herself. I got fifty pounds, and it wasn’t worth the trouble and the nuisance.”

There was something about the girl that Leslie liked. Unconsciously she was amusing, but there was a sterling value in her, she thought, and Leslie had an uncanny knowledge of women.

“No, I never read the papers, Leslie. After being told by the Daily Megaphone that I had a curious mentality – I shall never forget those words – I’ve given up the papers.”

“Then you haven’t heard what has happened at Fossaway Manor?” asked Leslie.

The startled girl listened, her mouth an O of amazement and horror.

“Thomas? Why, I was talking with him only the other day! You don’t think Harry is killed?”

Leslie shook her head.

“I don’t know what to think. Mr Alford is very confident that he is still alive, and they have just received a strange message which seems to bear that out.”

The girl was shocked, and Leslie could not help feeling that she was hurt too.

“Harry Alford was the best fellow in the world,” said Mary quietly. “He was a little irritable and difficult to get on with – you don’t mind me talking about him?”

“No,” said Leslie. “You probably do not know that our engagement was broken off?”

This seemed to be a greater shock still.

“Broken off? I’ll bet that was Dick Alford’s doing.”

“Mr Alford had nothing to do with it,” said Leslie, and Mary made a rapid re-estimation of Dick Alford’s character; and she was eminently adjustable.

“Dick Alford is not a bad fellow really,” she said diplomatically. “There is a great deal about him that I like. And he is so good-looking!”

She was a shrewd, discerning gamine, who had won through by her ability to adjust her views at a moment’s notice. And in a fraction of a second she had realised that perfect harmony with Arthur Gine’s sister could only be ensured if her views on Richard Alford underwent a very thorough reorganisation.