earth, set fire to it, and
saw it consumed to ashes. Then she undressed and went to bed. Whatever
her dreams were she rose in good time in the morning. She had a
considerable amount to do. She was to see Franks at nine o'clock. She
was to see Trevor later on.

She had to copy a whole very brilliant story of Bertha's. She was a slow
writer and there was nothing of talent in her handwriting.

"I am a very stupid girl when all is said and done," she said to
herself; "I am not even in the ordinary sense of the word well-educated.
I have been years studying, but somehow I think I must have a frivolous
sort of brain. Perhaps I have taken after the little Mummy. The little
Mummy never was clever. She is a dear little mother when all is said and
done, and very comforting when one is in trouble, and if I saw her now I
might break down and fling my arms round her neck and confess to her.
With all her silliness she would comfort me and she would never reproach
me; but I must not tell. There is no softness in my future. Thank
goodness, at least I am young; I may have a great career; I will be
satisfied to be famous. It will be terribly, terribly, difficult to be
famous through the whim of another woman; but I suppose Bertha will not
forsake me."

She dressed, prepared her breakfast as usual, and had just washed up
afterwards and put her little sitting-room in order when Franks's knock
was heard at her door. He entered in that brisk, business-like, utterly
cool way which always characterised him. He looked immaculate and fresh.
He was always extremely particular about his appearance. His collars
were invariably as white as the driven snow, and his clothes well cut.
He dressed himself between the style of a country gentleman and a man of
business. He never wore frock-coats, for instance. He was a small man,
but well made. He held himself upright as a soldier. His black hair was
brushed back from his lofty white brow. He had straight black eye-brows
and a neat little black moustache and straight features. His skin was of
an olive tint. Those well-cut, classical features gave to his face a
certain cold sameness of outline. It was almost impossible to surprise
him or to cause emotion to visit his countenance. He looked now as
composed as though he had merely come to give Florence a fresh order for
work.

"Ah," he said, "there you are. One minute past nine; sorry I am late;
accept my apologies."

Florence pushed forward a chair. Sh