d to see any one--had locked her door, and was writing. Yet no
letter came. I made an attempt to see Geoffrey Cliffe, who is staying at
the 'Germania,' but he refused. He wrote me the most audacious letter to
say that an interview could only be very painful, that he and Kitty must
decide for themselves, that he was waiting every hour for a final word
from Kitty. It rested with her, and with her only. Coercion in these
matters was no longer possible, and he did not suppose that either you
or I would attempt it.

"And now comes this blessed note--a respite at least! '<i>I am going to
Verona to-night with Blanche. Please let no one attempt to follow me. I
wish to have two days alone--absolutely alone. Wait here. I will write.
K</i>.'

"... Margaret French, too, has just been here. She was almost hysterical
with relief and joy--and you know what a calm, self-controlled person
she is. But her dear, round face has grown white, and her eyes behind
her spectacles look as though she had not slept for nights. She says
that Kitty will not see her. She sent her a note by Blanche to ask her
to settle all the accounts, and told her that she should not say
good-bye--it would be too agitating for them both. In two days she
should hear. Meanwhile the maid Blanche is certainly going with Kitty;
and the gondola is ordered for the Milan train this evening.

"Two P.M. There is one thing that troubles me, and I must confess it. I
did not see that across Kitty's letter in the corner was written 'Tell
<i>nobody</i> about this letter.' And Polly Lyster happened to be with me
when it came. She has been <i>au courant</i> of the whole affair for the last
fortnight--that is, as an on-looker. She and Kitty have only met once or
twice since Mary reached Venice; but in one way or another she has been
extraordinarily well informed. And, as I told you, she came to see me
directly I arrived and told me all she knew. You know her old friendship
for us, William? She has many weaknesses, and of late I have thought her
much changed, grown very hard and bitter. But she is always <i>very</i>
loyal to you and me--and I could not help betraying my feeling when
Kitty's note reached me. Mary came and put her arms round me, and I said
to her, 'Oh, Mary, thank God!--she's broken with him! She's going to
Verona to-night on the way home!' And she kissed me and seemed so glad.
And I was very grateful to her for her sympathy, for I am beginning to
feel my age, and thi