ld not matter to God whether she kissed him or not. But she
did not pursue this train of reasoning. She felt it to be wrong. But she
could not confess--she could not explain everything, and again she was
struck with a sort of mental paralysis. Why Monsignor--why not another
priest? No, not another. She could not say why, but not another; he was
the one. But perhaps she only wanted to tell someone, a woman--Louise,
for instance. If she were to tell Louise--she put the idea out of mind,
feeling it to be vain, and trying to think that there was no need why
she should leave the stage, and uncertain whether she should stay on the
stage if Monsignor forbade her, or if she wanted to even if he allowed
her, she put on her hat and went to lunch with Louise. It would help her
to pass the time; it would save her from thinking. She must speak to
someone. But the Savoy was on her way to St. Joseph's. It was half-way
there. A little overcome by the coincidence, she told her servant to
call a hansom, and as she drove to the hotel she wondered why she had
thought of going to see Louise.

She met her in the courtyard, and the vivacious little woman cried, "My
dear, how glad I am to see you!" and she stretched out both hands.
Evelyn was more pleased to see her friend than she expected to be, and
while listening to her she envied her for being so happy, and she
wondered why she was so happy; and while asking herself these questions
she noticed her dress. Mademoiselle Helbrun's plump figure was set off
to full advantage in a black and white check silk dress, and she wore a
wonderful arched hat with flowing plumes of the bird of paradise. She
was a prima-donna every inch of her, standing on the steps of her hotel,
whereas the operatic stage could hardly be distinguished at all in
Evelyn's dress. With the black crepon skirt she wore a heliotrope
blouse, and she stood, one foot showing beyond the skirt, in a
statue-like attitude, her pale parasol held negligently over one
shoulder.

"My dear," she said, "I have come to ask you to let me lunch with you."

"But I shall be enchanted, my dear. I wrote on the chance, never
thinking that you would be in town this season."

"Yes, it is strange. I don't know why I am here. There's no one in
town."

"Where would you like to lunch? In my room or in the restaurant?"

"It will be gayer in the restaurant. I haven't seen a soul for nearly a
week."

"My dear!"

Louise gave her a sharp look, in whi