over? Hope
flickered anew in her desolated heart.

It was the other pretty lady--a newcomer--who lived in the house:
a rather stylish woman of about thirty-five, unusually fair, with
regular features and a very dignified carriage, indeed not unimposing.
They had met once, at the foot of the stairs. Christine was not sure
of her name. She proclaimed herself to be Russian, but Christine
doubted the assertion. Her French had no trace of a foreign accent;
and in view of the achieve-merits of the Russian Army ladies were
finding it advantageous to be of Russian blood. Still she had a fine
cosmopolitan air to which Christine could not pretend. They engaged
each other in glances.

"I hope I do not disturb you, madame."

"Not at all, madame. I am obliged to open the door myself because my
servant is out."

"I thought I heard you come in, and so--"

"No," interrupted Christine, determined not to admit the defeat
of having returned from the Promenade alone. "I have not been out.
Probably it was my servant you heard."

"Ah!... Without doubt."

"Will you give yourself the trouble to enter, madame?"

"Ah!" exclaimed the Russian, in the sitting-room. "You will excuse me,
madame, but what a beautiful photograph!"

"You are too amiable, madame. A friend had it done for me."

They sat down.

"You are deliciously installed here," said the Russian perfunctorily,
looking round. "Now, madame, I have been here only three weeks. And
to-night I receive a notice to quit. Shall I be indiscreet if I ask if
you have received a similar notice?"

"This very evening," said Christine, in secret still more disconcerted
by this further proof of a general plot against human nature. She was
about to add: "I found it here on my return home," but, remembering
her fib, managed to stop in time.

"Well, madame, I know little of London. Without doubt you know London
to the bottom. Is it serious, this notice?"

"I think so."

"Quite serious?"

Christine said:

"You see, there is a crisis. It is the war that in London has led to
the discovery that men have desires. Of course, it will pass, but--"

"Oh, of course.... But it is grotesque, this crisis."

"It is perfectly grotesque," Christine agreed.

"You do not by hazard know where one can find flats to let? I hear
speak of Bloomsbury and of Long Acre. But it seems to me that those
quarters--"

"I am in London since now more than eighteen months," said Christine.
"And as for all those