nsidered it his duty to abide by the letter of
their preposterous compact? He had left her in wrath and indignation,
yet, as a closer scrutiny revealed, there was not a word of reproach in
his brief lines. Perhaps that was why, in the last issue, they seemed so
cold to her.... She shivered and turned to the other envelope.

The large stilted characters, though half-familiar, called up no
definite image. She opened the envelope and discovered a post-card of
the Ibis, canvas spread, bounding over a rippled sea. On the back was
written:

"So awfully dear of you to lend us Mr. Lansing for a little cruise. You
may count on our taking the best of care of him.

"CORAL"

PART II

XIII

WHEN Violet Melrose had said to Susy Branch, the winter before in New
York: "But why on earth don't you and Nick go to my little place at
Versailles for the honeymoon? I'm off to China, and you could have it to
yourselves all summer," the offer had been tempting enough to make the
lovers waver.

It was such an artless ingenuous little house, so full of the
demoralizing simplicity of great wealth, that it seemed to Susy just the
kind of place in which to take the first steps in renunciation. But Nick
had objected that Paris, at that time of year, would be swarming with
acquaintances who would hunt them down at all hours; and Susy's own
experience had led her to remark that there was nothing the very rich
enjoyed more than taking pot-luck with the very poor. They therefore
gave Strefford's villa the preference, with an inward proviso (on Susy's
part) that Violet's house might very conveniently serve their purpose at
another season.

These thoughts were in her mind as she drove up to Mrs. Melrose's door
on a rainy afternoon late in August, her boxes piled high on the roof of
the cab she had taken at the station. She had travelled straight through
from Venice, stopping in Milan just long enough to pick up a reply
to the telegram she had despatched to the perfect housekeeper whose
permanent presence enabled Mrs. Melrose to say: "Oh, when I'm sick
of everything I just rush off without warning to my little shanty at
Versailles, and live there all alone on scrambled eggs."

The perfect house-keeper had replied to Susy's enquiry: "Am sure Mrs.
Melrose most happy"; and Susy, without further thought, had jumped
into a Versailles train, and now stood in the thin rain before the
sphinx-guarded threshold of the pavilion.

The revolving year