que combinations, and if Liberty's had sent
her a stuffed monkey, she would have perched him on Psyche's pedestal.

"I know a man," said Ted, when he had disposed the last bit of drapery
according to an ingenious colour-scheme, in which Audrey's hair sounded
a brilliant staccato note--"a first-rate artist--who was asked to
decorate a lady's room. What do you think he did? He made her take all
the pictures off the walls, and he covered them over with little
halfpenny Japanese fans, and stuck little halves and quarters of fans in
the corners and under the ceiling. Then he put a large Japanese umbrella
in the fireplace, and went away smiling."

"Was the lady pleased?"

"Immensely. She asked all her friends to a Japanese tea-party in Mr.
Robinson's room. The rest of the furniture was early Victorian."

This anecdote was not altogether to Audrey's taste. She walked to a
shelf where Ted had put some bronzes, looked at them with a decided air
of criticism, and arranged them differently. Having asserted her
independence, she replied severely--

"Your friend's friend must have been an extremely silly woman."

"Not at all; she was a most intelligent, well-informed person,
with--er--a deep sense of religion."

"And now, Mr. Haviland, you're making matters worse. You care nothing
about her religion; you simply think her a fool, and you meant that I'm
like her. Else why did you tell such a pointless story?"

"Forgive me; the association of ideas was irresistible. You _are_ like
her--in your utter simplicity and guileless devotion to an ideal."

He looked all round the room again, and sank back on the sofa cushions
all limp with laughter.

"I--I never saw anything so inexpressibly sad as this afternoon's work;
it's heartrending."

His eye fell on the terra-cotta Parisienne dancing inanely on her
pedestal, and he moaned like one in pain. Audrey's mouth twitched and
her cheeks flamed for a second. She turned her back on Ted, until his
fit had spent itself, dying away among the cushions in low gurgles. Then
there was silence.

Ted raised his head and looked up. She was still standing in the same
place, but one hand was moving slowly towards her pocket.

He sprang to his feet and faced her. She walked to the window,
convulsively grasping her pocket-handkerchief.

He followed her.

"Miss Craven--dear Miss Craven--on my soul--I swear--I never----Can't
you--won't you believe me?"

Still there was silence and an averted h