if Nat liked
too much to hear Mrs. Melrose say it? Too much, I mean, to care any
longer what you felt or thought?"

Her friend's worn face flushed quickly, and then paled: Susy almost
repented the question. But Mrs. Fulmer met it with a tranquil dignity.
"You haven't been married long enough, dear, to understand... how people
like Nat and me feel about such things... or how trifling they seem, in
the balance... the balance of one's memories."

Susy stood up again, and flung her arms about her friend. "Oh, Grace,"
she laughed with wet eyes, "how can you be as wise as that, and yet not
have sense enough to buy a decent hat?" She gave Mrs. Fulmer a quick
embrace and hurried away. She had learned her lesson after all; but it
was not exactly the one she had come to seek.

The week she had allowed herself had passed, and still there was no word
from Nick. She allowed herself yet another day, and that too went by
without a letter. She then decided on a step from which her pride
had hitherto recoiled; she would call at the bank and ask for Nick's
address. She called, embarrassed and hesitating; and was told, after
enquiries in the post-office department, that Mr. Nicholas Lansing
had given no address since that of the Palazzo Vanderlyn, three months
previously. She went back to Versailles that afternoon with the definite
intention of writing to Strefford unless the next morning's post brought
a letter.

The next morning brought nothing from Nick, but a scribbled message from
Mrs. Melrose: would Susy, as soon as possible, come into her room for
a word, Susy jumped up, hurried through her bath, and knocked at her
hostess's door. In the immense low bed that faced the rich umbrage
of the park Mrs. Melrose lay smoking cigarettes and glancing over her
letters. She looked up with her vague smile, and said dreamily: "Susy
darling, have you any particular plans--for the next few months, I
mean?"

Susy coloured: she knew the intonation of old, and fancied she
understood what it implied.

"Plans, dearest? Any number... I'm tearing myself away the day after
to-morrow... to the Gillows' moor, very probably," she hastened to
announce.

Instead of the relief she had expected to read on Mrs. Melrose's
dramatic countenance she discovered there the blankest disappointment.

"Oh, really? That's too bad. Is it absolutely settled--?"

"As far as I'm concerned," said Susy crisply.

The other sighed. "I'm too sorry. You see, dear, I'd m