ught lately a number of clothes, and these she had
insisted should be sent to her dressmaker, saying that it was needless
to cumber their little apartment with them. They could stay there till
she returned to England a few weeks later for her marriage, and it would
be simpler to despatch them all from one place. Susie went out. At the
door it occurred to her to ask the _concierge_ if she knew where Margaret
had gone that morning.

'_Parfaitement, Mademoiselle_,' answered the old woman. 'I heard her tell
the coachman to go to the British Consulate.'

The last doubt was leaving Susie. She went to the dressmaker and there
discovered that by Margaret's order the boxes containing her things had
gone on the previous day to the luggage office of the Gare du Nord.

'I hope you didn't let them go till your bill was paid,' said Susie
lightly, as though in jest.

The dressmaker laughed.

'Mademoiselle paid for everything two or three days ago.'

With indignation, Susie realised that Margaret had not only taken away
the trousseau bought for her marriage with Arthur; but, since she was
herself penniless, had paid for it with the money which he had generously
given her. Susie drove then to Mrs Bloomfield, who at once reproached her
for not coming to see her.

'I'm sorry, but I've been exceedingly busy, and I knew that Margaret was
looking after you.'

'I've not seen Margaret for three weeks,' said the invalid.

'Haven't you? I thought she dropped in quite often.'

Susie spoke as though the matter were of no importance. She asked herself
now where Margaret could have spent those afternoons. By a great effort
she forced herself to speak of casual things with the garrulous old lady
long enough to make her visit seem natural. On leaving her, she went to
the Consulate, and her last doubt was dissipated. Then nothing remained
but to go home and wait for Arthur. Her first impulse had been to see Dr
Porhoet and ask for his advice; but, even if he offered to come back with
her to the studio, his presence would be useless. She must see Arthur by
himself. Her heart was wrung as she thought of the man's agony when he
knew the truth. She had confessed to herself long before that she loved
him passionately, and it seemed intolerable that she of all persons must
bear him this great blow.

She sat in the studio, counting the minutes, and thought with a bitter
smile that his eagerness to see Margaret would make him punctual. She had
eate