red her.

Behind that moon-face with the troubled eyes, what conflict was in
progress--between unquestioning morality and unquestioning belief in Gyp,
between fears for her and wishes for her happiness, between the loyal
retainer's habit of accepting and the old nurse's feeling of being in
charge? She said faintly:

"Oh dear! He's a nice gentleman, too!" And suddenly, wheezing it out
with unexpected force: "To say truth, I never did hold you was rightly
married to that foreigner in that horrible registry place--no music, no
flowers, no blessin' asked, nor nothing. I cried me eyes out at the
time."

Gyp said quietly:

"No; Betty, I never was. I only thought I was in love." A convulsive
squeeze and creaking, whiffling sounds heralded a fresh outburst. "Don't
cry; we're just there. Think of our darling!"

The cab stopped. Feeling for her little weapon, she got out, and with
her hand slipped firmly under Betty's arm, led the way upstairs. Chilly
shudders ran down her spine--memories of Daphne Wing and Rosek, of that
large woman--what was her name?--of many other faces, of unholy hours
spent up there, in a queer state, never quite present, never comfortable
in soul; memories of late returnings down these wide stairs out to their
cab, of Fiorsen beside her in the darkness, his dim, broad-cheekboned
face moody in the corner or pressed close to hers. Once they had walked
a long way homeward in the dawn, Rosek with them, Fiorsen playing on his
muted violin, to the scandal of the policemen and the cats. Dim, unreal
memories! Grasping Betty's arm more firmly, she rang the bell. When the
man servant, whom she remembered well, opened the door, her lips were so
dry that they could hardly form the words:

"Is Mr. Fiorsen in, Ford?"

"No, ma'am; Mr. Fiorsen and Count Rosek went into the country this
afternoon. I haven't their address at present." She must have turned
white, for she could hear the man saying: "Anything I can get you,
ma'am?"

"When did they start, please?"

"One o'clock, ma'am--by car. Count Rosek was driving himself. I should
say they won't be away long--they just had their bags with them." Gyp
put out her hand helplessly; she heard the servant say in a concerned
voice: "I could let you know the moment they return, ma'am, if you'd
kindly leave me your address."

Giving her card, and murmuring:

"Thank you, Ford; thank you very much," she grasped Betty's arm again and
leaned heavily on