ddenly she flung herself deep into the pillow
and, buried thus, lay motionless like a marionette whose wire has
snapped.

Chapter XXX: _Lugete, O Veneres_

The silver dawn was softened to a mother-of-pearl morning that seemed
less primal than autumnal. When Danby came into the sitting-room, he
found Jenny, fully dressed for departure, crouched over the ashes of
last night's fire. He had a pinched, unwholesome look so early in the
day, and was peevish because Jenny's presence kept him from summoning
the housekeeper to bring up breakfast.

"We must get something to eat," he said.

"I don't want anything," said Jenny.

"Why not?"

"I've got a headache."

Danby tried to appear sympathetic; but his hands so early were cold as
fish, and his touch made Jenny shrink.

"What a nuisance packing is. I've got a fearful lot to do to get to
Charing Cross in time for the boat train."

Like many other people he tried to demonstrate his sympathy by enlarging
on his own trials.

"Well?" said Jenny, regarding him from eyes pinpointed with revulsion in
a critical survey that was not softened by the gray morning light, for
whatever silkiness clung to the outside air was lost in the stale room.

"I wish I hadn't got to go away," said Danby awkwardly.

"Why?" Jenny asked, screwing up her eyes as if she had perceived upon
the wall an unpleasant insect.

"Well, it seems a pity now that we've--we've got to know each other
better."

"You don't think," said Jenny, chiseling the words from the very
bedrock of her contempt, "you _don't_ think that because I've been in
your flat all a night, you know me? Why, I don't know myself even."

"Aren't you going to come and see me off?" he asked in a ludicrous
attempt at sentiment.

"See you off? See you off? Oh yes, that's a game of mine seeing off
clothes-props. If you can't move," she added, "I can. Let me pass,
please."

Jenny walked towards the door of the contaminated flat followed by Danby
in a state of weak bewilderment.

"You'll write to me, little girl?" he asked, making a motion to detain
her hand.

"You seem to think I'm struck on you," she rapped out. "But I'm not."

"Well, why did you----"

"Ah, Mr. Enquire Within," she interrupted, "you're right. Why?"

"Surely," he persisted, "the first person who----"

"The first! Hark at Mr. Early Bird. If you go out with your long soppy
self like that, you'll miss your train. Ching-a-ling."

So Jenny parted from Mr.