ooking steadfastly at
the possibility Miss Kimpsey had developed. "What a
complication!" she said, half to herself; and then,
observing Miss Kimpsey's look of astonishment: "I had no
idea of that," she repeated; "I wonder that they have
not mentioned it."

"Well then!" said Miss Kimpsey, with sudden compunction,
"I presume they wanted to surprise you. And I've gone
and spoiled it!"

"To surprise me!" Elfrida repeated in her absorption.
"Oh yes; very likely!" Inwardly she saw her garret, the
garret that so exhaled her, where she had tasted success
and knew a happiness that never altogether failed, vanish
into a snug cottage in Hampstead or Surbiton. She saw
the rain of her independence, of her delicious solitariness,
of the life that began and ended in her sense of the
strange, and the beautiful and the grotesque in a world
of curious slaveries, of which it suited her to be an
alien spectator, amused and free. She foresaw long
conflicts and discussions, pryings which she could, not
resent, justifications which would be forced upon her,
obligations which she must not refuse. More intolerable
still, she saw herself in the role of a family idol, the
household happiness hinging on her moods, the question
of her health, her work, her pleasure being eternally
the chief one. Miss Kimpsey talked on about other things
--Windsor Castle, the Abbey, the Queen's stables; and
Elfrida made occasional replies, politely vague. She was
mechanically twisting the little gold hoop on her wrist,
and thinking of the artistic sufferings of a family idol.
Obviously the only thing was to destroy the prospective
shrine.

"We don't find board as cheap as we expected," Miss
Kimpsey was saying.

"Living, that is food, is very expensive," Elfrida replied
quickly; "a good beefsteak, for instance, costs three
Francs--I mean two and fivepence, a pound."

"I _can't_ think in shillings!" Miss Kimpsey interposed
plaintively.

"And about this idea my people have of coming over
here--I've been living in London four months now, and I
can't quite see your grounds for thinking it cheaper than
Sparta, Miss Kimpsey."

"Of course you have had time to judge of it."

"Yes. On the whole I think they would find it more
expensive and much less satisfactory. They would miss
their friends, and their place in the little world over
there. My mother, I know, attaches a good deal of importance
to that. They would have to live very modestly in a
suburb, and