l.

On the third day she returned to Munich, having said farewell to her
friend, who was quite prepared for the parting. From Munich she
proceeded to Leipzig, and there entered again the family circle of the
Gassners. She had no intention of staying for very long; the pretence
of musical study could not be kept up; but her next step was quite
uncertain.

A fortnight later, Mrs. Frothingham wrote thus:----

'I am sending you on a letter which, if I am not mistaken, comes from
Mr. Rolfe. Do tell me if I am right. Odd that he should write to you, if
it is he. You have not told me yet whether you saw Mr. Redgrave again.
But I see that you don't care much, and perhaps it is as well.'

The forwarded letter had been originally addressed to the care of Mrs
Frothingham, and Alma, at a glance, recognised Harvey Rolfe's writing.
He dated from London. Was he mistaken, he began, in thinking that
certain photographs from Bregenz had come to him by Miss Frothingham's
kindness? For his part, he had spent June in a ramble in South-west
France, chiefly by the Dordogne, and through a strange, interesting bit
of marsh-country, called La Double. 'I hardly know how I got there, and
I shall not worry you by writing any account of the expedition. But at
a miserable village called La Roche Chalais, where I had a most
indigestible supper and a bed unworthy of the name, I managed to fall
ill, and quite seriously thought, "Ah, here is the end!" It has to come
somewhere, and why not on a _grabat_ at La Roche Chalais? A mistake; I
am here again, wasting life as strenuously as ever. Would you let me
hear from you? I should think it a great addition to your kindness in
sending the views. And so, with every good wish, he remained, &c.

Having nothing better to do, Alma got out a map of France, and searched
for La Roche Chalais; but the place was too insignificant to be marked.
On the morrow, being still without occupation, she answered Rolfe's
letter, and in quite a playful vein. She had no time to correspond with
people who 'wasted their lives'. To her, life was a serious matter
enough. But he knew nothing of the laborious side of a musician's
existence, and probably doubted its reality. As an afterthought, she
thanked him gravely for his letter, and hoped that some day, when she
had really 'done something', they might meet and renew their friendship.

CHAPTER 9

On an afternoon in September, Harvey Rolfe spent half an hour at a
certai