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 again would there be such a perfectly successful coat of whitewash. "And Victoria Qaudel?" she asked, tentatively. "She has been the injured party, you know—and women are so hard upon each other." This last remark completed the irony of the situation. Morton smiled. "Victoria never harmed a fly in all her life. She's too much of a man to strike a fallen enemy, and, besides, once her own character is cleared, she'll never think about the matter again—she has too many things of more importance to employ her mind,—she's too busy."

The lady looked incredulous. "I hardly think," she said, sententiously, "that you understand women, Mr. Conway." Morton rose. "I don't pretend to, Mrs. Ford, I assure you. But Victoria is particularly a tomboy, and I think I can answer for her mental progressions. I assure you that you will really be quite annoyed by the very little importance she'll attach to it all, once the clouds have blown over. I think we quite understand each other now, Mrs. Ford. I thank you for receiving me, and the 303