Do you mind not
telling anybody that I was here?"

"If--you wish it."

"I do. May I trust you?"

"Y-yes."

"Thank you--" A bank bill was in her gloved fingers; intuition warned
her; she took another swift look at Dulcie. The child's face was
flaming scarlet.

"Forgive me," whispered Thessalie.... "And thank you, dear--" She bent
over quickly, took Dulcie's hand, pressed it, looking her in the
eyes.

"It's all right," she whispered. "I am not asking you to do anything
you shouldn't. Mr. Barres will understand it all when I write to
him.... Did you see that man at the street door, looking through the
grating?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who he is?" whispered Thessalie.

"No."

"Have you never before seen him?"

"Yes. He was here at two o'clock talking to my father."

"Your father?"

"My father's name is Lawrence Soane. He is superintendent of Dragon
Court."

"What is your name?"

"Dulcie Soane."

Thessalie still held her hand tightly. Then with a quick but forced
smile, she pressed it, thanking the girl for her consideration, turned
and walked swiftly through the hall out into the street.

* * * * *

Dulcie, dreaming over her closed books in the fading light, vaguely
uneasy lest her silence might embrace the faintest shadow of
disloyalty to Barres, looked up quickly at the sound of his familiar
footsteps on the pavement.

"Hello, little comrade," he called to her on his way to the stairs.
"Didn't we have a jolly party the other evening? I'm going out to
another party this evening, but I bet it won't be as jolly as ours!"

The girl smiled happily.

"Any letters, Sweetness?"

"None, Mr. Barres."

"All the better. I have too many letters, too many visitors. It leaves
me no time to have another party with you. But we shall have another,
Dulcie--never fear. That is," he added, pretending to doubt her
receptiveness of his invitation, "if you would care to have another
with me."

She merely looked at him, smiling deliciously.

"Be a good child and we'll have another!" he called back to her,
running on up the western staircase.

* * * * *

Around seven o'clock her father came in, steady enough of foot but
shiny-red in the face and maudlin drunk.

"That woman was here," he whined, "an' ye never called me up! I am
b-bethrayed be me childer--wurra the day----"

"Please, father! If any one sees you----"

"An' phwy not! Am I ashamed