"Yes. She always goes on the 28th of July."

"I saw it in some paper. Are you staying on long?"

The story of her leaving her mother's house was, Brigit knew, common
property, but this was the first time anyone had ventured to broach the
matter to her.

"I suppose," went on the unlucky questioner, "that you will soon be
joining her?"

"Do you?" asked Brigit.

"Do I what?"

"Suppose so?" And Miss M'Caw was alone, staring after the tall figure in
the plain white frock, that for all its plainness looked so out of place
in Cromwell Mansions.

Unlocking her door, Brigit went into her sitting-room and lit a
cigarette. She had taken the flat from a friend who had been sent abroad
by her doctor, and the whole place was absurdly unsuited to its present
owner.

Maidie Conyers was blonde and small, so the room was pale blue and
"cosy." There were embroidered pillows on the buttony Chesterfield, lace
shades to the electric lights, and be-rosebudded liberty silk curtains.

Brigit hated the house, but it was cheap, and she had little money.

With a grunt of furious distaste she sat down in a satin chair, and
leaning back began to smoke. The tables in the room were very bare, for
the chief ornaments had been photographs--in very elaborate frames--of
Maidie Conyers' friends, and Brigit, finding that she loathed Maidie
Conyers' friends, had banished them one and all.

"Loathsome room," the girl said aloud, lighting a fresh cigarette,
"disgusting curtains."

What she in reality felt mostly, though she did not know it, was the
lack of room in the flat. Used all her life to the large rooms of
Kingsmead, she felt, now that the unusual heat had come, cramped and
restless.

It maddened her to have to make plans. Where should she go? How like
that little wretch Pammy to go and have measles now.

She would go to Golden Square as soon as it got a little cooler and make
Victor play to her. They might go for a drive later. Or she might make
Theo take her for a walk in the park. Suddenly she heard a slight
scratching noise in the entry, and rose. The porter, to save himself
trouble, was letting some visitor in unannounced. She would murder that
porter.

But when she saw the visitor she forgot the guilty official.

"Gerald!"

"Yes, Brigit. Do--do you mind?"

"I--yes, I mind, of course I do. Why have you come?"

Carron, who was very smartly dressed and who looked wretchedly ill, sank
into a chair.

"It is nearly four month