and was about to
draw up a chair, when his eye caught a letter that was lying on the
lowered flap of the bureau. In patent agitation, and without excusing
himself, he seized it and tore it open. Madeleine saw his face darken.
He read the letter through twice, from beginning to end, then tore it
into a dozen pieces and scattered them on the shelf.

"No bad news, I hope?"

He turned his face to her; it was still contracted. "That depends on
how you look at it, Madeleine," he said, and laughed in an unpleasant
manner.

After this, he seemed to forget her again; he stood staring at the
scraps of paper with a frown. For some minutes, she waited. Then she
saw herself forced to recall him to the fact of her presence.

"Could you spare me a little attention now?" she asked. At her words,
he jumped, and, with evident confusion, brought his wandering thoughts
home. "I can't sit here for ever you know," she added.

"I beg your pardon." He came up to the table, and took the chair he had
previously had his hand on. "The fact is I--Can I do anything for you,
Madeleine?"

"For me? Oh, dear, no!--You are surprised to find me here, no doubt!
But as I'm leaving to-morrow morning, I thought I'd run up and say
good-bye to you--that's all. A case of Mohammed and the mountain, you
see."

"Leaving? To-morrow?"

"Yes.--Goodness, there's nothing wonderful in that, is there? Most
people do leave some time or other, you know." His reply was inaudible.
"It was very good of you to look me up," he threw in as an afterthought.

Madeleine, watching him, with a thin, sarcastic smile on her lips, had
chanced to let her eyes stray to his hands, which he had laid on the
table, and she continued to fix them, fascinated in spite of herself by
the uncared-for condition of the nails. These were bitten, and broken,
and dirty. Maurice, becoming aware of her intent gaze, looked down to
see what it was at, hastily withdrew his hands and hid them in his
pockets.

"This is the first time I've been in your den, you know," she said
abruptly. "Really, Maurice, you might have done better. I don't know
how you've managed to put up with it so long."

"My dear Madeleine, do you think I could afford to live in a palace?"

"A palace?--absurd! You probably pay sixteen or seventeen marks for
this hole. Well, I could have found you any number of better places for
the same money--if you had come to me."

"You're very kind. But it has done me well enough."

"