beheld Vanna Strangeways' white, strained face. The
horrid doctor had given a depressing verdict. So much was evident at a
glance; but Jean had too much tact to allow her knowledge to betray
itself at this moment.

"Well, my dearie, back again! I was longing for you. Sit down in that
nice low chair, and let me be lady's-maid. The streets must be a grill
this afternoon, but you'll soon cool down up here. There; you'll feel
better without that hat. Your hair looks charming--don't worry. It
couldn't look untidy if it tried. Now your gloves. I shall peel them
right off. It will be occupation for an idle hour to turn out the
fingers. If I were a queen I'd never, never wear gloves a second time.
Now those dusty little shoes. Your slippers are here all ready. Sit
still. I'm _going_ to undo them. I love to do it."

Her white, ringed fingers untied the laces, and pulled off one shoe
after another so deftly and daintily that they hardly seemed to touch
the surface. Then, bending still lower, she gave a deft little pull to
the tip of each stocking, thereby altering its position, and giving a
wonderful sense of comfort to the tired feet, Vanna Strangeways had sat
silent and unresponsive till that moment, but something in the simple
thoughtfulness of that last action melted the ice. She laid her hands
on her friend's shoulders and spoke in a quivering voice:

"Jean, I've had a blow."

"Yes, dear," said Jean softly. She knelt by Vanna's side, caressing her
face with her lovely eyes. "I saw. Would you rather tell me now, or
wait till later on? You are tired, you know, and after a rest, and some
tea. Later on--"

"Jean, it's not what you expected--what I expected myself. I'm not
going to die; I'm going to live. He thinks there is a good chance that
I shall escape the curse. He wants me to lead a full, active life--the
fuller the better. But--there is one thing forbidden. I may never
marry!"

Jean's lips quivered, but she said never a word. It seemed to her there
was nothing to say. Few girls of the early seventies knew any desire
for independent careers; and to Jean to love and to be loved seemed the
stun and substance of life. She would marry, and her dear Vanna would
marry also. Of course! They would be loved and won, whispering happy
confidences into the other's ear; they would bring up their children
side by side, with motherly comparisons, consultations, planning for the
future; they would