gained by waiting. We might even leave to-morrow."

The Princess shook her head.

"You are too impetuous, my dear Count," she said.

"But what is there to wait for?" he demanded.

"I must see my lawyers first," she answered slowly, "and before I leave
London I must pay some bills."

The Count drew a cheque book from his pocket.

"I will keep my word," he said. "I will pay you on account the amount
we spoke of."

The Princess opened her escritoire briskly.

"There is a pen and ink there," she said, "and blotting paper. Really
your cheque will be a god-send to me. I seem to have had nothing but
expenses lately, and Jeanne's guardians are as mean as they can be.
They grumble even at allowing me five thousand a year."

De Brensault twirled his moustache as he seated himself at the table.

"Five thousand a year," he muttered. "It is not a bad allowance for a
young girl who is not yet of age."

The Princess shrugged her shoulders.

"My dear Count," she said, "you do not know what our expenses are.
Jeanne is extravagant, so am I extravagant. It is all very well for
her, but for me it is another matter. I shall be a poor woman when I
have resigned my charge."

De Brensault handed the cheque across.

"You will not find me," he said, "ungrateful. And now, my dear lady,
let us talk about Jeanne. Do you think that you could persuade her to
leave London so suddenly?"

"I am going up-stairs now," the Princess said, "to have a little talk
with her. Dine with me here to-night quite quietly, and I will tell you
what fortune I have had."

De Brensault went away, on the whole fairly content with his visit. The
Princess endorsed his cheque, and with a sigh of relief enclosed it in
an envelope, rang for a maid and ordered her carriage. Then she went
up-stairs to Jeanne, whom she found busy writing at her desk. She
hesitated for a moment, and then went and stood with her hand resting
upon the girl's shoulder.

"Jeanne," she said, "I think that we have both been a little hasty."

Jeanne looked up in surprise. Her stepmother's tone was altered. It was
no longer cold and dictatorial. There was in it even a note of appeal.
Jeanne wondered to find herself so unmoved.

"I am sorry," she said, "if I have said anything unbecoming. You see,"
she continued, after a moment's pause, "the subject which we were
talking about did not seem to me to leave much room for discussion."

"There is no harm in discussing anything," the Prin