teful of
buttered toast.

"Studio fare!" she said, taking off the blue apron, pulling down her
sleeves, and looking at Claude. "Are you surprised?"

"I was for the first moment."

"And then?"

"Well, I had felt sure you were up to something, that you had some
scheme in your head, some plan for to-day. But I didn't connect it with
sausages."

Her expression changed slightly.

"Perhaps it isn't only sausages. But it begins with them. Are you
hungry?"

"Yes, very. I've been walking in Battersea Park."

"Claudie, how awful!"

They sat down and fell to--Charmian's expression. She was playing at the
Vie de Boheme, but she thought she was being rather serious, that she
was helping to launch Claude in a new and suitable life. And behind the
light absurdity of this quite unnecessary meal there was intention,
grave and intense. The wasted two months must be made up for, the hours
given to the _French Revolution_ be redeemed. This meal was only the
prelude to something else.

"Is it good?" she asked, as Claude ate and drank.

"Excellent! Where have you been to-day?"

"I've seen Madre and Susan Fleet."

"Miss Fleet at last."

"Yes. It is so tiresome her moving about so much. I care for her more
than for any woman in London. All this time she's been in Paris doing
things for Adelaide Shiffney."

"Did Madre know about to-night?"

"No."

"Why didn't you tell her? Why not have asked her to come? We belong to
her and she to us. It would have been natural."

"I love Madre. But I didn't want even her to-night."

Claude realized that he was assisting at a prelude. But he only said:

"I suppose she is going to Mrs. Shiffney's to-night?"

"Yes."

When they had finished Charmian said:

"Now I'll clear away."

"I'll help you."

"No, you mustn't. I want you to sit down in that cosy chair there, and
light your cigar--oh, or your pipe! Yes, to-night you must smoke a
pipe."

"I haven't brought it."

"Well, then, a cigar. I won't be long."

She began clearing the table. Claude obediently drew out his cigar-case.
He still felt uneasy. What was coming? He could not tell. But he felt
almost sure that something was coming which would distress his secret
sensitiveness, his strong reserve.

He lit a cigar, and sat down in the armchair Charmian had indicated. She
flitted in and out, removing things from the table, shook out and folded
the rough white cloth, laid it away somewhere behind the screen, and at
last ca