of the world and could cover two pages of
note-paper without saying anything that could irritate a woman. Like
everything he said, what he wrote was just right. He did not protest
that he could not use his motor car himself, and he did not apologise
for taking the liberty of offering her the use of it; he did not even
ask for an answer, as if he were trying to draw her into writing to
him. The car would be at the gate, and he would be glad if she could
use it; meaning that if she did not want it she could send it away.
There was not the least shade of familiarity in the phrases.
'Respectful homage' was certainly not 'familiar.' Just because he did
not ask for an answer, he should have one!

She took up her pen and began. When she had written three or four lines
to thank him, she found herself going on to say more, and she told him
of the change in regard to her _debut_, and asked if he knew why it
was made so suddenly. She explained why she preferred _Faust_ to
_Rigoletto_, and all at once she saw that she had filled a sheet and
must either break off abruptly or take another. She finished the note
hastily and signed her name. When it was done she remembered that she
had not told him anything about the money which had unexpectedly come
to her, and she hesitated a moment; but she decided that it was none of
his business, and almost wondered why she had thought of telling him
anything so entirely personal. She sealed the letter, stamped it and
sent it to be posted.

Then she sat down at her piano to look over _Rigoletto_, whistling her
part softly while she played, in order to save her voice, and in a few
minutes she had forgotten Logotheti, Schreiermeyer and Lushington.

CHAPTER XII

Madame Bonanni sat in the spring sunshine by the closed window of her
sitting-room in London; she was thankful that there was any sunshine at
all, and by keeping the window shut and wrapping herself in furs she
produced the illusion that it was warming her. The room was not very
large and a good deal of space was taken up by a grand piano, a good
deal more by the big table and the heavy furniture, and the rest by
Madame Bonanni herself. Her bulk was considerably increased by the
white furs, from which only her head emerged; and as her face was made
up for the day with rather more paint than she wore in Paris, on the
ground that London is a darker city, the effect of the whole was highly
artificial and disconcerting. One might hav