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           "Oh,Iknow:thesecretary,"theyoungmantookhimup."Nonsense,mother;Janey’sgrown-up.Theysay,don’tthey,"hewenton,"thatthesecretaryhelpedhertogetawayfromherbruteofahusband,whokeptherpracticallyaprisoner?Well,whatifhedid?Ihopethereisn’tamanamonguswhowouldn’thavedonethesameinsuchacase."Mr.Jacksonglancedoverhisshouldertosaytothesadbutler:"Perhaps...thatsauce...justalittle,afterall—";then,havinghelpedhimself,heremarked:"I’mtoldshe’slookingforahouse.Shemeanstolivehere.""Ihearshemeanstogetadivorce,"saidJaneyboldly."Ihopeshewill!"Archerexclaimed.ThewordhadfallenlikeabombshellinthepureandtranquilatmosphereoftheArcherdining-room.Mrs.Archerraisedherdelicateeye-browsintheparticularcurvethatsignified:"Thebutler—"andtheyoungman,himselfmindfulofthebadtasteofdiscussingsuchintimatemattersinpublic,hastilybranchedoffintoanaccountofhisvisittooldMrs.Mingott.Afterdinner,accordingtoimmemorialcustom,Mrs.ArcherandJaneytrailedtheirlongsilkdraperiesuptothedrawing-room,where,whilethegentlemensmokedbelowstairs,theysatbesideaCarcellampwithanengravedglobe,facingeachotheracrossarosewoodwork-tablewithagreensilkbagunderit,andstitchedatthetwoendsofatapestrybandoffield-flowersdestinedtoadornan"occasional"chairinthedrawing-roomofyoungMrs.NewlandArcher.Whilethisritewasinprogressinthedrawing-room,ArchersettledMr