ll as a child's.

Unlike June's cheeks, her cheeks had no colour in them, but were ivory
white and pinched as if with cold. Dark circles lay round her eyes. In
one hand she held a bunch of violets.

She looked back at June, no smile on her lips; and with those great dark
eyes fastened on her, the girl, for all her startled anger, felt
something of the old spell.

She spoke first, after all.

"What have you come for?" But the feeling that she herself was being
asked the same question, made her add: "This horrible case. I came to
tell him--he has lost it."

Irene did not speak, her eyes never moved from June's face, and the girl
cried:

"Don't stand there as if you were made of stone!"

Irene laughed: "I wish to God I were!"

But June turned away: "Stop!" she cried, "don't tell me! I don't want to
hear! I don't want to hear what you've come for. I don't want to hear!"
And like some uneasy spirit, she began swiftly walking to and fro.
Suddenly she broke out:

"I was here first. We can't both stay here together!"

On Irene's face a smile wandered up, and died out like a flicker of
firelight. She did not move. And then it was that June perceived under
the softness and immobility of this figure something desperate and
resolved; something not to be turned away, something dangerous. She tore
off her hat, and, putting both hands to her brow, pressed back the bronze
mass of her hair.

"You have no right here!" she cried defiantly.

Irene answered: "I have no right anywhere!

"What do you mean?"

"I have left Soames. You always wanted me to!"

June put her hands over her ears.

"Don't! I don't want to hear anything--I don't want to know anything.
It's impossible to fight with you! What makes you stand like that? Why
don't you go?"

Irene's lips moved; she seemed to be saying: "Where should I go?"

June turned to the window. She could see the face of a clock down in the
street. It was nearly four. At any moment he might come! She looked
back across her shoulder, and her face was distorted with anger.

But Irene had not moved; in her gloved hands she ceaselessly turned and
twisted the little bunch of violets.

The tears of rage and disappointment rolled down June's cheeks.

"How could you come?" she said. "You have been a false friend to me!"

Again Irene laughed. June saw that she had played a wrong card, and
broke down.

"Why have you come?" she sobbed. "You've ruined my life, and