he poor thing be let out of her cage?" cried Barbara. "What
good does it do to anyone? Mother, if ever, when I am married, I want to
get free, I will!"

The tone of her voice was so quivering, and unlike the happy voice of
Barbara, that Lady Valleys involuntarily caught hold of her hand and
squeezed it hard.

"My dear sweet," she said, "don't let's talk of such gloomy things."

"I mean it. Nothing shall stop me."

But Lady Valleys' face had suddenly become rather grim.

"So we think, child; it's not so simple."

"It can't be worse, anyway," muttered Barbara, "than being buried alive
as that wretched woman is."

For answer Lady Valleys only murmured:

"The doctor promised that ambulance carriage at four o'clock. What am I
going to say?"

"She'll understand when you look at her. She's that sort."

The door was opened to them by Mrs. Noel herself.

It was the first time Lady Valleys had seen her in a house, and there was
real curiosity mixed with the assurance which masked her nervousness. A
pretty creature, even lovely! But the quite genuine sympathy in her
words: "I am truly grateful. You must be quite worn out," did not
prevent her adding hastily: "The doctor says he must be got home out of
these hot rooms. We'll wait here while you tell him."

And then she saw that it was true; this woman was the sort who
understood.

Left in the dark passage, she peered round at Barbara.

The girl was standing against the wall with her head thrown back. Lady
Valleys could not see her face; but she felt all of a sudden exceedingly
uncomfortable, and whispered:

"Two murders and a theft, Babs; wasn't it 'Our Mutual Friend'?"

"Mother!"

"What?"

"Her face! When you're going to throw away a flower, it looks at you!"

"My dear!" murmured Lady Valleys, thoroughly distressed, "what things
you're saying to-day!"

This lurking in a dark passage, this whispering girl--it was all queer,
unlike an experience in proper life.

And then through the reopened door she saw Miltoun, stretched out in a
chair, very pale, but still with that look about his eyes and lips, which
of all things in the world had a chastening effect on Lady Valleys,
making her feel somehow incurably mundane.

She said rather timidly:

"I'm so glad you're better, dear. What a time you must have had! It's
too bad that I knew nothing till yesterday!"

But Miltoun's answer was, as usual, thoroughly disconcerting.

"Thanks, yes! I have ha