Hunter! I'd like to see
your face when you read that! But it's true. Much more sensible,
too, than the river, or growing sour at home!

"Good-bye. Write soon.

"Your affectionate sister,

"Teresa."

Mary put the letter back in its envelope, and went out to look for
Teresa's evening dress. She paid for it out of her own money, and
decided to offer it in the shape of an advance birthday present. In any
case she would have to give something in October; it might just as well
be bought now. She experienced a torpid satisfaction in the
transaction, but it soon faded, and left her mind empty as before.
Teresa's appreciation and affection came too late. Five years ago they
might have transformed her life, but they had not been given. Of what
use to offer them now when their lives lay apart? Speculations as to
Lady Cassandra Raynor, even as to Peignton himself, aroused no flicker
of interest. They had been mummers in a play, and she had escaped into
the open air. The only person of whom she had cared to hear was her
father, and concerning him Teresa was mute.

Another week passed, and still another. Mary left the big hotel, and
moved into a smaller one, of the glorified boarding-house type. Here,
if she had chosen, she might have been less lonely, for there were half
a dozen solitary women like herself, who would have been glad to include
her in games of cards, or to exchange confidences over afternoon tea,
but Mary had played a duty game of whist every week night for a dozen
years, and had vowed never to touch another card. Moreover, she shrank
from the furious curiosity of these women, who seemed capable of asking
personal questions for hours at a time. She left the boarding-house and
took furnished apartments, but the hot weather came on with a rush, and
the rooms grew stuffy and breathless, so for the third time she was
faced with the problem, of where to go next.

One afternoon she sat at tea at one of the little tables belonging to
the outdoor restaurant near Victoria Gate, and essayed the difficult
task of making up her own mind. In a limited sense the world was before
her, but the very largeness of the choice made it the more difficult.
If she could but think of something which interested... something for
which she really cared! No answer came to the question, yet of a
certainty she was happier under some conditions than others. Looking
back over the blank stretch of days, there were h