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 An angry light came into Olivia's eyes. She stood up, straight and stern, and absolutely grew taller as she looked fixedly at Madame Koller.

"This is intolerable," she said. "There is nothing—absolutely nothing—between Pembroke and me, and yet I am subjected to this cross-questioning."

"You would complain a great deal more of it if there were anything between you," answered Madame Koller, not without a glimpse of grotesque humor. "But now you know where I stand—and let me tell you, Olivia Berkeley, Pembroke is not guiltless toward me, however he would pretend it"—and without waiting for the angry reply on Olivia's lips, she vanished through the open door.

All that evening, as Olivia sat with a book on her lap, not reading, but watching the flame on the broad hearth, she was turning over in her mind what Madame Koller had said. It had disturbed her very much. It had not raised Pembroke at all in her esteem. She begun, nevertheless, to think with pity over the wretchedness of his fate should he be condemned to poverty. She fancied him harassed by debts, by Miles' helplessness. Her tender heart filled with pity.

"Olivia, my love," said the Colonel, emerging from behind his newspaper for a moment. "Pembroke means to try for the nomination to Congress—and Cave tells me he is pretty sure to get it. Great pity. A man who goes into public life without out a competence dooms himself to a dog's life for