clever like you, Vic, but . . .'

'We've done with all that,' said Victoria coldly. 'I do want to get out
of it because it's getting me no nearer to what I want. I don't quite
know how to do it. I'm not very well, you know.'

Betty looked up quickly with concern in her face.

'Have those veins been troubling you again?'

'Yes, a little. I can't risk much more.'

'Then what are you going to do?'

Victoria was silent for a moment.

'I don't know,' she said. 'I never thought of all this when the Major
was alive.'

'Ah, there never was anybody like him,' said Betty after a pause.

Victoria sat up suddenly.

'Betty,' she cried, 'you're giving me an idea.'

'I? an idea?'

'There must be somebody like him. Why shouldn't I find him?'

Betty said nothing. She looked her stiffest, relishing but little the
fathering upon her of this expedient.

'But who?' soliloquised Victoria. 'I don't know anybody. You see Betty,
I want lots and lots of money. Otherwise it's no good. If I don't make a
lot soon it will be too late.'

Betty still said nothing. Really she couldn't be expected. . . . Then
her conscience smote her; she ought to show a little interest in dear,
kind Vic.

'Yes,' she said. 'But you must know lots of people. You never told me,
but you're a swell and all that. You must have known lots of rich men
when you came to London.'

She stopped abruptly, shocked by her own audacity. But Victoria was no
longer noticing her; she was following with lightning speed a new train
of thought.

'Betty,' she cried, 'you've done it. I've found the man.'

'Have you? Who is it,' exclaimed Betty. She was excited, unable in her
disapproval of the irregular to feel uninterested in the coming together
of women and men.

'Never mind. You don't know him. I'll tell you later.'

An extraordinary buoyancy seemed to pervade Victoria. The way out! she
had found the way out! And the two little words echoed in her brain as
if some mighty wave of sound was rebounding from side to side in her
skull. She was excited, so excited that, as she said goodbye to Betty,
she forgot to fix their next meeting. She had work to do and would do it
that very night.

As soon as Betty was gone she dressed quickly. Then she changed her hat
to make sure she was looking her best. She went out and, with hurried
steps, made for the Finchley Road. There was the house with the
evergreens, as well clipped as ever, and the drive with its clean
gravel. Sh